


No Fortunate Son

by HarperRow



Category: Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Apprentice - Freeform, Complete, Dubious Consent, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-08-19 14:47:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 22
Words: 70,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8212736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarperRow/pseuds/HarperRow
Summary: How would things change for Robin and the team if the apprentice arc took place in the world of Young Justice? Slade Wilson (aka Deathstroke the Terminator) has set his sights on making Dick Grayson his successor and blackmails him into remaining by his side. Under Slade’s wing, Dick is forced to make decisions and sacrifices for the sake of survival. When he manages to escape, however, he is left to wonder if his freedom came at too high a cost. That is, if he has actually managed to escape at all.





	1. Monster

The batcave was often a silent place, save for the clicking of computer keys, the squeaks of the bats, and the soft feet of one mindful butler. It was a comfortable silence, however, and Bruce liked it that way. It allowed him to settle his nerves and focus on whatever task was at hand. Tonight that wasn’t the case. There was a pregnant silence throughout the cave broken every so often by a bat’s high pitched shriek. Tonight the bats were particularly on edge.  The ceiling seemed to shudder as they squirmed.

Bruce Wayne was standing in front of the zeta tube clad in full armor, staring into the waiting portal, and trying not to notice the subtle twitching of the boy next to him in a hoodie and jeans a size too big. Dick Grayson, his ward and partner, alter ego to the world renowned Boy Wonder, looked like a frail schoolboy instead of the warrior Bruce knew him to be.  Bruce watched through the corner of his eye as another shudder-like spasm passed through Dick’s small frame. Too small, even for the acrobat. The boy never used to have a nervous twitch, Bruce was certain of that much. For a moment, he considered asking him about it, anxious curiosity gnawing at the detective in him ( _how did this happen, how did he_ let _this happen... to Dick of all people)_ , but he decided against it.  

Back when they would patrol together, long before any of this mess began, they were always so in sync, a well-oiled machine Bruce reminisced. They could go a whole night without speaking a word, yet communicating strategies, orders, and plans all the same. Outside of the missions and within the walls of the manor, however, it was a different story.  Bruce knew he wasn’t good at opening up or expressing feelings. Thinking back on it now, aside from Dick’s early days in the manor when the nine years old ached with freshly cut wounds, they never really did talk about each other’s emotions.  It was a small wonder that Dick ended up so in tune with people’s emotions when he himself was stoic and laconic at the best of times. If he had to admit, the ability came in handy when working with the many victims of Gotham’s streets -- people liked Robin. Robin could connect with civilians in a way Batman couldn’t. Then again, it was Dick’s natural empathy and need to put others first that was the reason they were in this mess in the first place.

Pulling himself out of his memories, Bruce returned to the present where he and Dick were still standing in front of the zeta, each trying desperately to avoid eye contact with the other. The silence was palpable.

“Master Dick, you really must not pick at your bandages.” Bruce turned towards the kindhearted scoldings of his faithful butler, trying not to acknowledge how Dick flinched at the familiar voice. Was Dick really so deep in thought that he didn’t hear Alfred approaching? Then again, he had been too busy not looking at Dick to see him scratching at the white bandages which wrapped around both wrists and disappeared underneath the hoodie.  Bruce forced the mental image of the injuries underneath Dick’s hoodie out of his mind. He couldn’t think about that now.

“Sorry, M-- Alfred.”

“Now, don’t look at me like that,” Alfred murmured with a gentle smile. He came close to Dick but mindfully stayed out of touching distance. Dick hadn’t been able to handle much touching recently.  “You’re friends have been waiting so long for your return home; today is a happy day.”

Dick forced a smile, but it didn’t convince either of the two men in the room. “Yes, I’ll try Alfred. I --” He started to say something but immediately clamped his mouth shut. Bruce felt his brow furrow, and his jaw tighten. Another habit forced on him by that monster no doubt.

“Go on, Master Richard, what is it?” Alfred coaxed softly, as if he was coaxing a kitten instead of the fiercesome Robin of Gotham City.

“I don’t deserve this. The things I’ve done… I betrayed them.  Everything they-- _we_ stand for…  I can’t ask forgiveness.”  As he spoke, Dick held eye contact with Alfred, but the moment he had finished he tore his eyes away, locking with the cave floor.

“I’ve already discussed it with the team,” Bruce responded automatically. “They are more concerned with your well-being than placing blame for your crimes.” He had discussed it with Dick the night prior, but apparently that hadn’t been enough to quell his fears. The thin boy swallowed, nodded, and perhaps turned a shade paler if that was even possible.

He understood the boy’s fear and his guilt.  This certainly had to be hard, facing his team again when last he’d seen them he had been acting on orders to take them out. And succeeding at that. But, he had told the boy _repeatedly_ now that his team wasn’t going to brand him a criminal. At least, not until they heard all the details, but Bruce was tactful enough that he wouldn’t mention that part.

The truth was, despite the fact that Dick had been freed from that monster’s clutches for almost a week now, he had yet to say anything as to what happened.  He hardly spoke at all for that matter.  Bruce had trained the boy since he was nine years old, raised him, he knew Dick was loyal to his ideals almost to a fault; Bruce had no doubt in that. So, what could that man have possibly done to get Dick to turn on his team, to become a criminal? What happened during the six weeks he had been away? As was his nature, Bruce was determined to find out, to make him _pay_. Just the thought of that monster had Bruce seeing red. However, this monster was gone, disappeared without a trail to follow.  A trail he suspected Dick knew how to pick up again.

It was his hope that reuniting Dick with the rest of the Young Justice team would speed up his recovery, settle his nerves, and maybe allow him to finally open up and give Bruce the much desired information to renew his hunt.  On a harder to admit note, Bruce was honestly worried for the boy. It was true Dick made him feel protective in a way he had never felt before and seeing Dick in obvious pain just gnawed at him. The way he walked now was different; he took softer steps and kept his head down, like a dog waiting to be kicked. Nervous, jumpy all the time. Lack of appetite. Reluctance to speak unless spoken to, even then giving only curt replies.  It wasn’t right.

The worst part of it was the nightmares he knew Dick had. He heard the screams, the sobs, the way the boy begged to phantoms.  In his dreams, Dick always begged for mercy.  The first night it happened Bruce had rushed into the boy’s room to cradle him in his arms, to comfort him as he had so many times before. He opened the door, eyes immediately finding the boy twisted in his own sheets, his fists balled tightly around the fabric, and his eyes squeezed firmly shut. His whole body trembled violently.

“No... No more. Please. Master, _please_!” Bruce could see Dick’s breath becoming faster, his voice rising in his panic almost to a shout.  It made his heart ache.

Bruce was hardly within a foot of the bed when Dick’s eyes snapped open, took one look at Bruce, and screamed.  

“Dick! It’s ok, it’s just me!” Bruce shouted over the boy, trying to pull him out of his own head and reaching to steady his frightened ward.  Yet, instead of sinking into his embrace as he always did, Dick nearly vaulted in the opposite direction and managed to fall off the bed entirely.  Bruce felt his heart quicken with worry as he came around and could help but think, what is _wrong_ with him? He had never done anything like this before.

On the floor, Dick was pressed against the wall, one had clasped over his mouth to try and stop the hiccupping sobs while tears streamed down his cheeks.  Bruce took a slow step forward; he was almost desperate to hold the boy in his arms, grab him tight and swear in soft whispers that he would never, ever, let that monster hurt him again.  But, after the first reaction, Bruce forced himself to stay just out of arm’s reach.

“Dick, Dick come on now. It’s all right, you’re all right. It’s over I swear,” He murmured in the most soothing voice he could manage.  The boy just trembled in response.  There was a moment of silence before he finally inhaled a shaky breath. When he spoke, Dick’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“Please, just leave.” 

Bruce blinked. Leave? That was not what was supposed to happen. He was supposed to comfort Dick, like he had _always_ comforted Dick. Bruce didn’t move.  Surely he had heard wrong and Dick would correct himself.  The seconds ticked by, and Dick didn’t move from his curled position on the floor. His tear-filled eyes stared into Bruce’s in an apologetic almost begging sort of way. He really did want him to leave.  The thought struck Bruce like a blow to the chest, and the man could think of no response but to turn and leave. As he closed the door again, he heard the shuddering, choking noise of another sob. Bruce Wayne felt his heart break.  

It was that heart ache that fueled his fury that he had yet to find so much of a hair of a lead on the man who did this to Dick.  That monster.  But, Bruce took a steadying breath, Dick’s well-being had to come first. First, he needed his friends.

“Are you ready to go?” He asked, breaking the silence and forcing himself to look at his partner. Had Dick always been this small?

“Yes, Ma—“ Dick quickly cut himself off before restarting, “I’m ready.”  Bruce couldn’t wait to get his hands on that man and wring his goddamn neck.

The zeta lit up, a swirling blue portal ready to take them to Mount Justice.  Bruce took a step forward and immediately stopped as he felt something hit his shoulder. After a quick three-sixty, he realized it had just been a bat falling from the ceiling. The small brown mass lay still on the floor, twitching slightly.

“Oh dear,” Alfred remarked upon noticing the object Bruce and Dick were staring at. “That’s the third one today. There must be some illness that’s taken them.”

Bruce didn’t respond, instead turning towards the portal one more time. He had more important things on his mind.  At his side, he sense the shifting of his ward as Dick turned his attention from the bat to portal. Dick moved, Bruce heard the soft but distinct sound of breaking bones. 

“Let’s get this over with,” Dick said tersely. It might have been the longest sentence he’d spoken all day.

As the zeta portal swirled around them, a thought started to bother Bruce. Something had happened to Dick, he was certain of that much. The more he considered it, the more the idea writhed like a maggot inside an unassuming apple. Dick had spent six weeks with Deathstroke the mercenary. Bruce knew Dick wasn’t a killer. He was certain. But, his time away had changed him. If it was permanent, however, was impossible to tell.  He couldn’t help but wonder.  


	2. Close Friends

Dick didn’t want to go to the mountain. He didn’t want to face his teammates, his friends – not after what he had done.  Bruce kept saying that they were willing to forgive him, but he didn’t expect forgiveness. Not when he could still see their looks of shock and hurt and betrayal as they met on that rooftop. He could hear Kaldur’s firm voice command the team -- _his_ team – to attack, just as they would any other thief. He could feel the way Artemis’s rib cracked and brake beneath his foot as he took her down.   As the light of the zeta dimmed and Mount Justice came into view, a wave of nausea wrenched at his stomach.  Nightmares be damned, what he wouldn’t give to be back at the manor in bed.

He and Batman were in the wide open space which made up the main atrium and sparring center of Mount Justice. From across the room, he could see the rest of his team with the addition of Black Canary loosely grouped together; all of them were in civvies. Talking about him no doubt, Dick thought to himself. He took a deep breath as not to lose his meager breakfast right there.

“Rob!”

In less than a blink of an eye, Wally was at his side, a huge grin across his face.  His best friend was nearly buzzing with excitement. Dick’s eyes grazed over his friend, taking in Wally’s unruly red hair, the slight bags under his eyes, a food stain on his shirt, and the tell-tale signs of a chewed thumb nail in a mere couple of seconds.  Wally was nervous about something.

“Dude! Welcome back!” Dick hardly had time to process what was happening, momentarily distracted in his deductions, before he felt himself being crushed between Wally’s arms.

Ice cold panic immediately gripped his heart. Oh god, he couldn’t move.  He was pinned and he couldn’t _move_. Suddenly, Slade’s breath was in his ear, hot and _taunting_ him and – No. No, he wasn’t there anymore, he reminded himself as Wally pulled away and the brief hug ended.  It’s over, Dick told himself as he quickly put on a warm expression and a smile. His ribs stung a little from the sudden stress, but it was nothing he couldn’t ignore.

“It’s good to be back,” he said, the words coming out easily enough.

Wally grinned even wider. He hadn’t noticed. A quick glance out the corner of his eye to his looming mentor, however, told him Bruce definitely had.  Just what he needed, another reason for Bruce to be skittish and awkward around him.  Not that he hadn’t given Bruce plenty of ammunition lately, but the man didn’t need another reason to brood.

Bruce looked at him pointedly. _Are you ok?_

Dick let out a soft, slow breath through his nose. _I’m fine._ He glanced towards the tunnel which lead deeper into the mountain. _Go on, I know you have work to do._

“Robin, it’s good to see you,” Black Canary stepped towards him first as Batman approached the group to go further into the mountain. As he passed Canary, he stopped to whisper something in her ear before continuing on.

The team made their way closer to greet him. Kaldur and Megan had relaxed, easy smiles. Megan seemed to want to rush him as Wally had but ultimately decided against it. The other two members were much more reserved in their approach. Conner had the ghost of a smile, his gait somewhat awkward as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do next.

Artemis was at the back of the group. One look at her showed she was purposefully keeping her expression neutral, but the archer’s eyes were sharp and didn’t quite hide the underlying suspicion.  She moved slower than usual, he noted, and she kept her arms close to her body.  Dick couldn’t tell if it was because of her broken rib or reluctance to approach him. Probably both. He would likely feel the same if their roles were reversed.

“You too, Canary, everyone. It’s good to be back.”

Kaldur was the one to speak next, his voice was friendly and confident. He wondered if Kaldur was also suspicious of him. A good leader should be, Dick was certain of that much.

“Yes, welcome back, Robin. I am glad your health has improved. Batman said you required rest, so it is good to see you looking well.”

Looking well? He looked like crap, and he knew it. The nightmares had keep him from getting hardly any sleep, and he had the dark circles under his eyes to prove it.  There was a fading purple-green bruise under his right eye. To top it all off, his hair was an unholy mess because he had been too nervous about coming to the mountain to remember to fix it.  He had been certain to wear a hoodie with long sleeves to hide the bandages and spent a ridiculous amount of time this morning making sure that it would do its job.  So, from what they could see, he looked all right for someone who had been kidnapped for six weeks.

“Thanks, Kaldur,” He said, letting the grin slide off. The silence hung in the air, and he knew what they were waiting for. With the deep inhale, he managed a steady voice. “I know you all have questions.  If we could… sit down or something, I’ll do my best to answer them.” They deserved to know the truth. But, oh man, how his stomach flipped at the thought of having to face them and say it.

Artemis nodded from the rear of the group.

“We could use one of the therapy rooms if you would like?” Canary ask him, her eyes soft and gentle. What had Bruce told her?  Probably to be nice to him or something.

Dick nodded, his tongue going dry in his mouth.

“Oh, I made cookies!” M’gann blurted.  “I mean, if you want them. I thought it’d be nice with you coming back.  My cooking’s been getting better, and I think these turned out pretty well.”

“Yeah, cookies would be great. Thank you.” Dick managed to say fairly convincingly.  He knew he wouldn’t be able to stomach any kind of sweet right now, but who was he to refuse her? Plus, she seemed like she was genuinely trying to make an effort to welcome him back, which he appreciated. Conner followed M’gann to the kitchen to help carry cookies – at least those two hadn’t changed in the time passed.  Canary started towards the therapy rooms with Artemis staying cautiously close behind and Kaldur casually bringing up the rear.

“Are you really ok?” Wally, the only one remaining by his side, asked when he noticed Dick still hadn’t moved.  Dick searched Wally’s eyes, for what he wasn’t sure. Wally held his gaze honestly.  He really was a great friend. For a moment, Dick considered saying no, maybe if he did that he could convince them all to put this off for another day, or two, or never _ever_ bring it up again.

But, he knew that wasn’t how it worked. You _owe_ them an explanation, he reminded himself.  It was another order he couldn’t refuse. That being said, they didn’t need to know everything. To himself, Dick swore that there were some things that happened in those six weeks no one but himself and Slade would ever know.

“I’m dealing,” he said flatly. It was the most honest response he could give.

“If you say so. But, Rob, I’m on your side, ok? I don’t know what happened, but I’m just glad your back.”

Dick smiled, the most genuine smile in a long while. “Thank you, Wally.” Wally didn’t even know what happened. He’d been attacked by his best friend, watched him commit crimes beside a criminal mastermind, and still Wally was going to stand beside him no questions asked.

“Hey, what are best friends for?”  He really didn’t deserve a friend as good as Wally.

The therapy room was cozy with a long sofa, an individual arm chair, and a small desk and swivel chair off to the side where Canary sat jotting notes. It had a houseplant in the corner and the most recent issue of Vogue on the coffee table. The perfect place to divulge his deep, dark secrets.

Kaldur and Artemis had already taken a seat on the couch so, respecting Artemis’s clear desire for space, he chose the arm chair.  Wally plopped himself on the arm of it; a little too close for his comfort, but Dick wasn’t about to push him away. 

“Here they are! They’re chocolate chip, Wally said that was your favorite.” M’gann announced cheerily, setting a plate of what looked like slightly burnt potatoes on the table.  She was doing her best to lighten up the mood.  Being the empath she was, Dick figured she had picked up on his nervousness and was trying. He shot her a smile as he felt his throat going tight again.  She and Connor took the other half of the sofa.

“Alright,” Canary started, readjusting her hair and moving the swivel chair between the couch and chair. It was starting to feel more and more like an interrogation. “Robin, is there anything you’d like to start off saying?”

Deep breaths, Grayson, he told himself. No matter the outcome of this, he was still in a better position than he was a week ago. He was in the middle of Mount Justice, for goodness sake. That had to factor for his side, at the very least in a poetic sense. 

“I just want to say that I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt any of you.  I know I don’t have any right to ask for forgiveness, and I’m not.  I destroyed your trust.  I violated the principles that we’re fighting to uphold.  You all have a right not to trust me after this. Whatever you want from me, I’ll comply.”  The last few word were unplanned, but they were familiar all the same and slipped out. Instead of uttering them from his knees, a bo-staff ready at his temple, asking for Slade’s mercy, he was now opposite his friends, fate at the mercy of their decision.

“Robin,” Kaldur spoke up, his voice clear but suggesting the gears were churning inside his head. “No one is talking about removing from you the team.” Artemis shot Kaldur a pointed glare.  “We just want to understand what your motivations were for your actions. I think I speak for all of us when I say finding out you were the thief we were chasing was … confusing for all of us.”

“Why would you join that guy?” Connor summarized, voice tense.  His arms were crossed and his tense pose was impatient for answers. M’gann put a gentle hand on his thigh as if to calm him some, but she didn’t correct his brashness.  Artemis’s eyes bore into Dick like daggers. Dick felt his heart quicken.

“I didn’t want to. It wasn’t by choice, I swear to you.” Dick forced his hands under his thighs as he felt them creep up to pick at the bandages under his sweatshirt sleeves. A bad habit he had been developing over the past few days.  He felt Wally shift next to him, a subtle reminder that he was there. He licked his lips before continuing.

“It was the mission in the sewer, when we had the run in with Clayface? It was a setup. All of it, the tunnels, Clayface, the explosion, it was all Slade.”

“Who’s Slade?” M’gann asked cautiously. 

“Slade? As in _Deathstroke the Terminator_?” Artemis spoke out of shock, eyes wide with surprise. With her family history and as a fellow Gothamite, Dick wasn’t surprised she knew Slade’s reputation.

“Who is Slade?” Connor said in almost a growl, frustrated as being out of the loop. Wally looked from Connor back to Dick, apparently he didn’t know about Slade either.

“Deathstroke is a high-profile mercenary,” Dick answered, voice almost mechanical now, “One of the best.  He operates all over the world, but he is in Gotham frequently because of the high crime rate; he gets lots of jobs there. He, Batman, and I have clashed a few times.” Slade had boasted about his accomplishments to Dick before. He claimed that he could take out the entire Justice League. The thought still terrified him.  “We were never able to keep him in jail for long, that is, if we won the fight at all. Slade always paid particular attention to me when we fought.  I mean, most criminals are usually focus on Batman.  But, I never thought anything of it before…before…” 

His heart rate started to thunder in his chest, growing louder and suddenly much faster.  Before he fell into Slade’s clutches.  Before he threw away his pride for the sake of survival. Before he gave up _everything_ to Slade. 

“I hope you’ve learned this lesson well, Robin.” Slade’s smooth voice was in his ears clear as day he first said them.  “You can never escape me.”

“Rob?” Wally’s voice was just above whisper, but it managed to pull him out of his trance. It was something he was getting a lot of practice with lately.

“What did Slade have to do with Clayface?” Artemis asked. She was firm in her question, she wanted answers.

He took a moment to slow his breath again.  “Slade had Clayface hide a detonator inside his body.  When Clayface exploded so did the detonator. It released microscopic nanobots onto the team which then entered your bloodstreams.  Slade jumped me that night and took mine out while I was unconscious, that’s what he used to keep me there. He said he’d kill you all if I refused him.”

“Wait, was that the… glowey, hurty thing? On the rooftop?” Wally asked, the memory of the painful experience clear on his face.

“Yes.” Dick couldn’t look him in the eye, instead locking with the blonde model on the magazine.

“Those nanobots were _inside_ of us? Was he watching us? Wait, are they still _inside_ us?”  Artemis’s hand shot to her stomach, she looked both disgusted and horrified at the same time. To have her privacy exposed, her own body used against her-- it was a gut wrenching feeling.  He nodded in response.

Dick couldn’t bring himself to look up, but he could feel the temperature of the room drop as an icy chill passed through the room. “Get them out.” Artemis demanded to Canary. “Get them out of me, _now_.”

“I think that’s enough for today,” Canary said hurriedly, her hand running through her hair in an act of nervousness. “Red Tornado is at the Watchtower, but I’ll contact him immediately.”

“They’re inside me too,” his voice was barely above a whisper.

Canary gave him a look, “I thought you said he took them out of you?”

“He did. But, I reinfected myself. That’s how I was able to escape with Batman.”

“If you say he took them out the first time, why would he not just do it again?” Kaldur asked.

Dick took a deep breath. “He didn’t think he needed to.” Canary brushed her hair behind her ear again.

“Why was that?” She dared to ask. He felt five pairs of eyes fall of him, and he forced his eyes to meet hers. As he did, he saw the tale-tale sign of a flesh-tone fleck in her ear, pushed into view from her fidgeting.

“He made a point to demonstrate that I would never be able to escape.” Dick forced his voice to remain flat but couldn’t quite keep the venomous sting of the memory out of his words.  _Don’t think about it. Don’t go there, Grayson._ He pushed himself up from the chair. He had to get out of this room. 

“I’m going back to the cave. I can repeat that louder for your wire if you want or you can just tell Batman yourself.”  With that, he turned as left the room, feeling more alone than when he entered it.


	3. Locked and Loaded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angst fest continues! I wanted to give a quick thank you to everyone checking this out. The fact that people are interested in reading what I wrote is super cool, and I appreciate any kind of feedback. As a side note, I'll try to update on the regular about once a week.

“He’s been in there for nearly two hours and refuses to let me help him.”  Alfred’s voice laced with reserved concern echoed from outside the bathroom door. On the opposite side, Dick was on his knees over the porcelain toilet bowl, praying that the latest wave of nausea had passed.

“I had to work with Tornado and Canary to find a way to remove the nanobots.  We found something that we think will work, but we need another day to run tests and make sure it’s safe.  Dick said he was leaving, I just assumed…” As he heard Bruce’s voice trail off, another brutal wrench at his stomach had him dry heaving again.

As soon as he had come back from Mount Justice, Dick had rushed past Alfred to the nearest bathroom and locked himself inside. The nausea had been coming and going ever since, and he was starting to wonder what would happen if he just never left this bathroom.

A heavy handed knock at the door said otherwise – of course Bruce would insist on ruining his eternal damnation. “Dick? Are you ok?” Dick’s breath was coming in heavy gasps, trying desperately to recover a normal rhythm. He didn’t even try to reply. “I’m coming in.” 

The door opened easily (there was no point in locking doors a house of detectives), and he could feel Bruce’s gaze on him, head down and draped pathetically over the toilet.  As expected, Bruce was at a loss for words and continued to stare at the top of Dick’s bowed head.

“Oh dear, Master Richard,” came Alfred’s voice from the hall as he presumably peered into the bathroom.  “I’ll go get you a new shirt.” Dick’s eyes fluttered open, although he couldn’t remember closing them, and he saw that the front of his sweatshirt was stained in sick.  He groaned and buried his head in his arms, pulling his legs close to his chest and curling into himself.   The smell had stopped bugging him a while ago. His head felt too numb to think about it anyways. 

“Is this about the wire?” came Bruce’s voice from on high.

Dick’s reluctant mind went back to sitting in the therapy room, catching sight of the damn thing in Black Canary’s ear.  Of course she was wearing a wire. He should have realized sooner.  Bruce wasn’t giving her pointers on dealing with him when he pulled her aside, he had given her a wire to wear. The man wouldn’t ask him outright what he wanted to know or didn’t trust Dick to give him the answer he wanted, and he didn’t trust Canary to give him all the details secondhand.  In some ways, however, he was glad that Bruce hadn’t tried to make him recount it all.  While he was annoyed Bruce had so little faith in … well, _everyone_ , he wasn’t surprised. No, he knew the churning of his stomach wasn’t about the stupid wire. Dick shook his head still laying heavy on his arms.  He felt as though he didn’t have the strength to so much as lift it. 

No, per usual, he was down, exhausted and aching, because of Slade.  This past week he had been trying to get used to being home, trying to fall back into his normal routine, trying _so hard_ to forget.  He would pour his energy and time into the gym doing what his sore body would allow (perhaps a little more than he should). He kept thinking that maybe, if he could just get stronger, in body and mind, he could finally put the past behind him.  But, sitting in that therapy room, it all was coming back to him, sweeping over him like tidal wave, and he felt like he was going to drown this time.

Bruce cleared his throat. Yes, let the king of putting-the-past-behind-you offer his advice, Dick thought bitterly.  “I know this… everything that’s been going on must be hard for you.” Bruce was still standing in the doorway, unintentionally looming over him.  He knew Bruce didn’t mean to, be he couldn’t help but start to feel cornered. Dick’s arms wrapped tighter around himself. “I’m sorry about the wire. It’s just that you’ve been so distant this past week. You don’t act like yourself anymore. I don’t know what to do with you, Dick. I can’t help you if you don’t _talk_ to me.”

Bruce didn’t say it explicitly, but Dick knew this was another order. Slowly, Dick forced his eyes up to meet Bruce’s. His chest hitched, and why was it so hard to keep his breathing steady? His eyes itched and he could feel the suppressed pressure of tears, but Bruce was still waiting for his response, and he refused to cry. 

“I spent so long just wanting to come _home_.” The words started of their own accord, soft and coarse from his raw throat, but he knew Bruce would hear them all the same.  “And now, I’m here but…I keep going back there. I can’t…I can’t…” The words were lost as soon as they came. His thoughts jumbled together in his head, and he couldn’t focus on any long enough to string them into a coherent thought. Maybe, he just didn’t want to.

A sudden desire to be hugged overcame his body.  God, he wanted Bruce to stoop down and hold him, to have someone _safe_ touch him and wrap their arms around him tightly.  He wanted Bruce to hug him the way his mom used to.  Right then, he ached for the mom he didn’t have anymore.

A small choking noise escaped his lips. It ached how alone he felt. He had spent so much time over those six months locked in that damn isolation room under the constant fluorescent light screaming and crying and _aching_ and alone.  It was the loneliness, he knew, that, at least partially, helped keep him obedient.  To have someone, anyone, look at him and talk to him was a step up from the room, even if it meant training with his enemy.  And, as Slade constantly reminded him, it was a _privilege_ which could easily be taken away.

He couldn’t find anything to say, the words flittering away like nervous birds, but Dick desperately tried to put it all into a single begging look.  Bruce didn’t understand.

“I’m going to find him. I just need more information. Maybe not now… but I need his hideouts, his contractors, his habits.  I’ll track him down, I swear.”

“Sir?”

Dick’s stinging red eyes flicked to Alfred who was now standing in the doorway a new sweatshirt in arm.  The bathroom really wasn’t big enough for all three of them.  “Master Richard, why don’t we change your bandages? They can’t be comfortable after all this time. I have also brought some pain medication as I assume you are due for another dose. Are you hurting?”

He nodded weakly. “My back’s been bothering me,” he admitted after a pause.

Bruce shot a sudden look to Alfred, “His back? I thought you said he broke his _ribs_.”

Alfred’s eyes darted to Dick and back, “Yes, well, I’m afraid both needed attention. Dick was rather unwilling to disclose information on his … other injuries when he first returned to the manor. I’m sure you’ll understand if that is still the case…” Alfred trailed off while still managing to sound firm.

“I really don’t remember the first night. It’s all kind of a blur,” Dick admitted softly.

“You were very reluctant to have me examine you for injuries.  You were also adamant that Master Bruce keep his distance and that I not disclose the nature of particular injuries to him, which I have complied with.”

“Oh.” _Oh_. His stomach clenched again, but it was empty and just left him with a queasy feeling. He didn’t like where this conversation was going.  This meant Bruce didn’t _know_. 

It was one thing to have Alfred learn about it when he was too numb with the realization he had finally regained his freedom to really process what was going on. He had no memory whatsoever of the first time Alfred properly patched him up.  Every time Alfred had dressed the wounds since, which had been on a fairly regular basis, he never said a word about it.  Dick certainly never brought attention to it during the sessions, instead he busied himself trying not to think about the gentle hands on his bare skin.  Had Alfred asked questions when he saw? Even worse, did Dick _answer_ them? Dick desperately racked his brain, but he just couldn’t remember.

However, now he was perfectly aware of what was going on. He knew exactly what his body looked like under the bandages– he knew it looked bad.  It was shameful. Alfred might not have asked questions, but Bruce undoubtedly would.  Moreover, between their time as guardian and ward and as Batman and Robin, they had tended to each other’s bodies before and Dick never thought anything of it then.  Yet, the thought of having to bare his back for Bruce now filled him with dread.

“Master Richard?”

Dick hadn’t realized he’d been pulled into his own thoughts again, “Um, yes?”

“I asked if you would like Master Bruce to maintain his distance.” Dick’s eyes darted to Bruce.

“Whatever you want, Dick, I’m fine with.” Bruce-speak for he wanted to know and would find out eventually. He knew Bruce wouldn’t let the issue slide. No, sooner or later, Bruce would find out, as he always did.

“No, it’s fine. I … didn’t really know what I was saying that night.” Maybe he had been onto something the first night by refusing to let Bruce see. But, whatever it was, it was too late now.

Alfred led the way to the med bay in the cave with Dick behind him and Bruce bringing up the rear. He could feel Bruce’s eyes on his back as if trying to develop x-ray vision and see what exactly was being kept from him.

The make-shift med bay consisted of a curtained off section of the cave with a metal table in the middle. There was a tray of various tools on a cart and a small sink and cabinet system off to one side along with a series of expensive looking medical machines for running tests. He had been under most of them at one point or another, although often not in a lucid enough state to remember much of the process.

As Alfred set the neatly folded sweatshirt down and began removing the antiseptic and bandages from the cabinet, Dick climbed onto the table, as per usual with their routine. Of course, this time there was the added bonus of Bruce watching his every move.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

_"Get yourself ready, Richard.”_

Dick stopped breathing for a moment. He knew what Bruce said, but he could also hear Slade’s voice deadly clear. The old metal of the table began to all too similar to the cold concrete of the walls of Slade’s haunt. He felt his hands press harder against the cool surface in an attempt to steady himself.  He knew what came next.

His next movements were automatic as Dick slowly grabbed the hem of the sweatshirt and began to tug it over his head, trying to ignore the way Bruce kept his gaze on him the entire time. The steady click and grind of the gears was in his ears.

With a final, pained tug the sweatshirt was off, revealing the neat, crisscrossing bandages that covered nearly his entire torso. They started just above his protruding hip bone and wound tightly upwards, covering every square inch of his back and wrapping around his left shoulder.

Alfred moved behind him, ready to begin, and Bruce mimicked him, stepping out of Dick’s line of sight to get a better view. Dick couldn’t repress an involuntary shudder.

“I’m going to start taking them off, alright?”

_"You have ten. I want you to count them.”_

Alfred’s voice of soft and coaxing, but in his ears it faded behind the firm voice of his master.  Dick barely managed a nod.

His hands pressed harder into the table.  That had always been his distraction. If he could focus hard enough on his hands against the wall, focus instead on the grooves of his knuckles or the specks under his fingernails then just maybe it wouldn’t hurt so bad.  The corner of the ice cold table bit into the palm of his hands.

_"One.”_

A chill ran up his back as Alfred’s scissors slipped between the bandages and began to cut them away.

_"Two.”_

Careful hands floated over his torso, peeling the strips of cloth away one by one. A few of them pulled at his skin as they were stripped away leaving a brief sting. The cold air of the cave made him shiver.

_“Three.”_

“Oh God.” 

His back, bare and made vulnerable for his guardian, was a purple and red grid work pattern of scars crossing from shoulder to hip. The ugly marks went back and forth over the whole of his back, following the trail of Slade’s methodical hand so not to leave any area unaffected.  Most of them were only partially healed, torn open again in training, and had a swollen, angry red-tinge to them.  Underneath the stripes and around the rest of his body lay green-yellow bruises, on his forearms where he blocked Slade’s punches in sparring and on his stomach where he didn’t.  The darkest ones were splotched over the healing ribs on his left side.  If Bruce would had stepped around, he would have seen the bright red marks around his neck and wrists, but Bruce was rooted in place, eyes glued on his back.

_“I wouldn’t have to use the whip if you would just listen to my instructions.”_

He had nightmares about the horrid hiss and snap of the whip cracking against his bare skin. The pain that followed was like nothing Dick had ever felt before. It was like a white hot strike of lightning that left him seeing stars at the worst and nursing the long, slow burning sting for the rest of the night at best.  Each time he grit his teeth, determined to bare it silently, but each time he always ended up crying out, unable to bite down his pitiful yelps.  Eventually, he had honestly been trying to please Slade just to save his own skin.  Admitting that, however, left him feeling disgusted.  If only had had been stronger…maybe, maybe, maybe.

“Dick? Did you hear what I said?”

Bruce’s voice came from somewhere behind him. Alfred had just finished coating his back in a salve and was beginning to rewrap it once more.

The hard part of distracting himself was minding to not getting so distracted that he lost count.  He never really did get good at that.

_“What number were you at?”_

“I…I don’t know, Master.”

“I said, how did you get these?” Bruce already knew the answer. Why did he have to make him say it? Dick eyes watched his knuckles turn white as he gripped the table harder.

_“Why do you have these scars, Richard?”_

_“Because I failed, Master.” His eyes were locked his hands pressed against the wall. His heartbeat was picking up as he tried to breathe through the pain. His knuckles were swollen._

“I …”

_“And why do I have to punish you when you fail?”_

“I…”

_“I deserve it, Master.” A tremble passed through his body before he could suppress it. He knew Slade was dragging this out.  Slade knew how it drove him crazy with panic -- he liked to watch him squirm._

_“Because I have to reteach you. Because you are my Apprentice.” It was the wait between blows that was the worst part._

_"Yes, Master.” The fingernail on his left ring finger was chipped._

_“So you understand why we have to start over, don’t you Richard?”_

_“Yes, Master.” His cuticles were growing out._

He could hear the distinctive whistle of the whip cutting through air; he could only squeeze his eyes shut and try not to tense his back.  It would only make things worse.

_CRACK. “One.”_

“Dick? Are you ok? Talk to me Dick… Dick?”

_CRACK._

_“T-Two.”_


	4. Nude Emperor

Artemis hadn’t been able to sleep.  She kept thinking about the therapy session at Mount Justice, about Deathstroke, about Robin, and the nanobots that were still crawling around inside her.  A shiver passed through her at the thought of those _things_ again.  She forced herself to refocus and finish packing her bag with her green costume, compacted bow, and recently remade arrows to take to the mountain. Robin’s betrayal had stunned the entire Young Justice team, and now everyone was coping with his and sudden return to justice in their own way.  Artemis, however, wasn’t buying it.  She had spent too much time around people like Deathstroke. While she had never met him specifically, her father, Sportsmaster, had and told her about some of Deathstroke’s jobs – his kills to be specific. Oh, she knew the mercenary type. When the team had met Robin on the roof of the Wayne Incorporated building, when he had broken her _ribs_ with one solid, perfectly-timed kick, she saw it. It was a certain look in his eyes that she had seen too many times to count – it was the same look her father had when he ordered her sister to fight her or when he made a kill.  Emotionless, cold, calculating, and deadly focused.  She never thought she would see those things on the tiny, pun-cracking acrobat.  To see that element of the assassin world intrude her newfound family made his betrayal sting so much more.

That expression, that state of mind, wasn’t something someone could fake (she never had been able to figure it out). So, when Batman told the team Robin had been kidnapped, when Robin said he had been tricked, it just didn’t add up.  No matter his motives, when they had met on the roof, Robin had been acting with the full conviction of a mercenary.

In Artemis’s mind, the scene played out on repeat. Batman had sent them to investigate a series of thefts while he was busy with some other matter, which, in hindsight, must have been Robin’s disappearance. The alarms of the building had been triggered and were blaring against the backdrop of the pouring rain.  The small black shadow had led them to the roof of the building and was about to make a break for it.

“Stop right there and return what you have stolen,” Aqualad’s commanding voice rang out as the rest of the team began to tense for a fight.  As if they would actually give up, Artemis had bemused to herself.

Yet, for some reason, instead of darting away, the thief actually did stop. He seemed to be listening for something. The thief turned, and, for a moment, Artemis thought she was about to be proven wrong. Lightning cracked overhead and that’s when they saw it. The domino mask, the small and lean stature, the familiar dark hair. But, instead of the familiar red tunic, he was clad in black and orange with chrome plated armor.

“No,” Wally breathed.

“Robin?” Megan’s voice asked tentatively, “Robin, it’s us, your friends! What are you doing?”

“Robin, please, let’s go back to Mount Justice and talk about this. You don’t need to do this.” Aqualad said.  Artemis could hear the pleading undertones in his voice. Beside her, Superboy was wide eyed with shock.

Robin paused, his hands clenched in fists at his side. He took a tentative step backwards before flinching to a stop.

“I can’t,” he whispered.

There was a moment of terse silence, then suddenly Artemis let out a scream of pain. It was all at once, an intense burning feeling like someone was boiling the blood in her veins. She was on her knees and all she was aware of pain like nothing she had ever felt before and _oh god,_ _someone make it stop!_

The next thing she knew Robin was in front of her, glaring with the eyes of her father.  She didn’t have a chance as his foot connected with her side.

He can’t, she scoffed to herself as she swung her packed bag over her shoulder.  Her fingers brushed her side, still a nasty purple beneath her shirt.  Yeah right.

Batman had told them all to report to Mount Justice early that morning to finally remove the nanobots. She was impressed Batman and Tornado had been able to find a solution so quickly, but, then again, Batman’s reputation preceded him.  His partner may be a lost cause, but at least they still had Batman.

“Mom! I’m leaving!” She hollered as she started down the stairs. 

“Don’t forget to finish your English paper, Artemis!  I want it done tonight.” Her mom called back.  Artemis couldn’t help a smile, her mother was always on her about doing her schoolwork. She hadn’t been able to tell her mom that her body was crawling with tiny robots from a crazed mercenary. 

After a short walk down the streets of Gotham to the zeta tube, Artemis felt herself growing more anxious with each step. She had been trying not to think about it, but now she couldn’t help it.

“Recognized, Artemis. B-06.”

Had the nanobots been recording information? Did Deathstroke know who she was? Did he know who her father was? Oh god, what if he told him? A cold panic began to seep into her chest as the blue of the zeta gave way to interior of Mount Justice.  She forced herself to breathe past it. No matter what, she had the Justice League on her side now. 

“Hello, Artemis,” Red Tornado intoned. “We are just waiting on Kid Flash before we begin.” Red Tornado and Batman were standing in the middle of the training ring next to a chair. There were a bunch of tiny wires coming out of it and running to the large computer to the side.   Kaldur, Megan, and Conner were standing off to the side, chatting softly.  Kaldur and Megan smiled kindly at her, Conner gave a nod of acknowledgement.

Despite the tension the nanobots placed on everyone, Artemis couldn’t help but feel a sense of belonging and family among her fellow superheroes. They were in this together. Robin had made a mistake by turning against them. They were stronger than that, and his betrayal would not stop them from working for the greater good as a team– she was certain of that.

“Hey guys,” she greeted.

“Hello, Artemis,” Megan said with a smile. “How are you?”

Oh, you know, just been thinking about how my former teammate betrayed all of us, turned to the dark side and also a crazy murderer put tiny robots inside my body. “I’m fine.”

Connor had a distant look in his eyes; it seemed that they were all in the same boat. 

“Recognized, Kid Flash. B – 03.” The team turned to see Wally coming through the zeta. His hair was every which way and there were dark circles under his eyes. He looked like a mess.  The biggest indicator of his mood, however, was that he actually _walked_ over to the group.

“Hello, Wally,” Megan said sympathetically, clearly picking up on his mood. Wally offered a half-hearted grin in response.

“Hey, Megalicious. What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” Megan gave a small giggle.

“Let’s get started,” Batman’s harsh voice said, drawing them closer to the strange looking chair in the middle of the ring. “As you know, Tornado and I have been working on to remove the probes.  Essentially, the sensors attached to these wires will release a small pulse which will deactivate the probes and stop them from replicating.  Then, since they are attached to your red blood cells, when the cells die the broken probes will be disposed of naturally.”

“Um, and you’re sure this is safe?” Artemis couldn’t help but ask.

“Yes.” Batman said curtly. Apparently that was all she was going to get from him.

“All right, let’s do it then.” The sooner the better, too.  Artemis stepped up to the chair, and after shooting her an unreadable glance, Batman began sticking sensors over her skin. Fifty some stickers later, Artemis was covered from head to toe in the sensors, and she couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. But, he was _Batman_ , he had to know what he was doing.

“Are you ready?” He asked in his monotone voice. She nodded. Batman turned to the computer and typed in a sequence, gave her one final look, then hit a button.

A warm buzz suddenly passed through her whole body. It didn’t hurt, and it was over in a moment, but it left her feeling tingly and with a slight headache.

“Is…is that it? Did it turn them off?” Batman turned back to the computer, typing in another sequence.

“Yes, it would seem that it did its job. We’ll run periodic scans throughout the next few weeks to make sure we didn’t miss anything.”

“You don’t know how glad I am to have that little traitor’s bots out of me.” She said, beginning to peel the sensors off one by one. This had been hanging over her ever since Robin had confessed to them. It felt good to finally have one thing over with.

“Don’t call him that!” Artemis looked up at the sound of Wally’s voice.

“You mean a _traitor_? Would you prefer turncoat? Or how about backstabber instead?”

Wally took a threatening step forward, his hands in fists at his side. “You heard what he said! He said he was set up. He was trying to protect us, so don’t you dare say that about him!”

“Protect us? Oh sure, I’m sure that’s why he had Deathstroke activate the probes! That must be why he was carrying kryptonite for Superboy, and why he had had that flame thrower wrist-thing to _shoot_ Kal and Megan, and – oh yeah!—why he beat the crap out of you and me!”

“He was being blackmailed! I bet Slade was watching his every move. What was he supposed to do?”

“Um, gee I wonder, if only we had a telepath that could pick up on a secret message or a call for help or something to let us know what in the heck was going on!” Artemis flung her arms out to the side as she gestured. How did he not get it?

Wally faltered at that. He turned helplessly to look at Megan. “Megan? I … I know we really didn’t get a chance to debrief after that mission… But, did he say anything to you?”

Megan shifted nervously, rubbing her forearm. Connor took a protective step closer. “Not exactly… When I realized it was Robin, I tried to make contact, but he kept pushing me out. He said that he was sorry, but nothing else. He really didn’t want to hurt us, but it was like he couldn’t stop or rather that he refused to. He was determined to win, he felt like he _had_ to beat us. I don’t know… I tried to ask him what happened but he shut me out.  Whatever it was, he didn’t want me to know. That’s when he used the flame-thrower.” Her hand brushed her thigh, where the flame burst had hit her. Not enough to do permanent damage, but she had been in serious pain afterwards.

The memory of Megan curled up on the roof, eyes brimming with tears and squeezed shut in pain, made Artemis almost shudder.  It had been so hard to watch her suffer, to watch her whole team try to pick themselves up after being beaten so completely.  It was all Robin’s fault.

"He’s not a traitor… he’s not.” Wally’s voice was softer now. Artemis didn’t respond. She knew Wally would take it the hardest with those two being so close before. He would realize it soon enough.

“Where is Robin?” Kaldur asked, turning to Batman. “Did he not say he still had the nanobots inside him as well?”

Batman paused, looking the team over with his stony expression. “Robin needs more time to recover. His probes will be removed as soon as we are able.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Conner said, speaking up. “We just saw him two days ago, and he was fine. What’s even wrong with him?”

Batman’s eyes narrowed, sending a cold shock through the team. However, Connor didn’t back down, challenging Batman with a glare of his own. “Robin is not ready to come back. You’ll see him when he is. Period.”

“More like unable to face his guilt,” Artemis hissed under her breath before she could stop herself.

Batman’s glare was on her in a second. She felt like an ant looking up at the gigantic boot about to squish it. Her and her damn mouth. “You don’t know what happened while he was with that… with Deathstroke. Keep your opinions to yourself.”

“Do _you_ even know what happened?” She shot back.  Batman held his glare, but he said nothing, and it spoke volumes.

“What a load of crap. I’ll be in the training room if anyone needs me,” Artemis said, turning on her heel. “I know what I saw, and eventually you’ll all realize it too.  A criminal is one thing, but a criminal who works alongside Deathstroke is the lowest kind of criminal there is.”


	5. Green Eggs and a Ham

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The saga continues! With drama! Excitement! And all the angst your little heart desires. Shoutout to everyone keeping pace with this, and a super-shoutout to everyone who reviewed. You make my day, so thanks. But, without further ado, on with the story!

“Master Richard, I thought your days of climbing the chandelier were over. Additionally, while I realize no one in this house has any concept of sleep, it is far too early for this. Please come down before something breaks.”  From the chandelier that hung over the tall-ceilinged entrance to the manor, Dick poked his head out to gaze at Alfred below. He could see Alfred still wondering even after all this time how the heck he managed to get up there but also being far too old to care.

“Come on, Alf. You know this is the best seat in the manor,” he called down with a grin. It was the highest place up he could get while still staying within the house.  Plus, being high off the ground relaxed him, something he sorely needed after the waking nightmare that had left him in a cold sweat a short while ago.  Before, he might have crawled into bed with Bruce, but that just wasn’t an option anymore.

It had been four days since the therapy session, and Dick was finally starting to feel relaxed around the house.  The nightmares still kept him from sleeping well, and every once in a while the click of heels on the floor sounded far too much like the grinding of gears, but he was _home._ It was a feeling that brought a certain warmth to his chest which he knew Slade would never be able to beat out of him.

While he felt safe within the manor, there were two things that still hung over his head.  The first was that Bruce had still not asked him about what happened while he was with Slade, and he dreaded when he would, the fear growing more with each passing day.   The second was one he refused to let himself think for long; the fact that no one knew where Slade was. 

The night of his rescue he had watched as all the pieces he had meticulously planned out and been waiting for fall into place.  He had accompanied Slade out that night.  They were heading back to the haunt across the rooftops and over outskirts of Gotham when a flash of metal cut through the air, stopping them in their tracks.

“Batman. What a charming surprise.” Slade’s voice came off as amused and sarcastic, but Dick knew enough to hear the rage behind it.  He had learned enough to be wary of Slade’s moods.

“Give.  Him.  Back.   _Now_.” Slade only smirked at Batman’s threat. Dick felt one of Slade’s heavy, gloved hand snake onto his shoulder.

With Batman here, he could do it, Dick thought to himself. This was the opening he had been waiting for.

“I don’t think so.  We have better things to do than chat.” He squeezed his shoulder, a little too tight. “Isn’t that right, Robin?”

Dick’s heart thundered in his chest. It was now or never. He sucked in a deep breath, locking eyes with his former mentor. Now or never.  In a burst of energy, he whirled around to meet Slade’s masked face with his heel. The resounding crack left Slade stunned and gave Dick just enough time to leap out of Slade’s arms and to Batman’s side.

Unfortunately, Slade’s shock didn’t last long. “You just made a huge mistake, boy.”

Batman was right behind him, Dick could feel him ready to spring into action. It made him feel powerful, especially after being kept under Slade’s foot. “No. My only mistake was not doing something sooner.”

“You think just because I can’t use the probes that you’re free?” Slade’s voice rose to a snarl. “Have you forgotten the leverage I have so quickly?”

“No, it’s gone, Slade. Every last scrap of it, I made sure of that.” Dick sliced the air with his hand. He could feel his whole body trembling. Slade just smirked. Slade could read his fear like a book, and Dick knew it.

“Is that what you think?” Slade’s hand slipped into his belt. “As if I would keep the only copy of those documents on my computer. I--” Despite the mask, knew exactly the stunned expression on his face as Slade realized the flash drive was missing.

“When could you have possibly...?” Then, Slade realized. “ _Oh_ , you vile little cretin. How low you’ve sunk.  But, I’ll admit I didn’t see that one coming.  I guess you have learned something after all.”

“You’re going to regret ever so much as looking at him when I’m done with you!” Batman roared. Slade narrowed his eyes, taking in the situation. The bat was angry, and he was unprepared. He was beat this time and he knew it.

“I don’t think so.” Slade took a step backwards. Batman stepped in front of Dick who was shaking visibly. He couldn’t control it now. “Do you know why?”

Batman growled. The expression in his eyes was deadly.

“Because if you don’t follow me, I _might_ consider turning it off.”

“Turning _what_ …”

A cry burst through Dick’s lips as suddenly the collar and gauntlets activated, catching him off guard and sending electricity coursing into his body. His knees hit the rooftop with a cruel thud. 

“Dick! Focus on me, Dick.” 

He grit his teeth; his fists clenched and unclenched as he willed himself to not call out again. Not now when he was _so close_. As he forced his eyes up, he could see the disappearing shadow of his Master over the rooftops.

“Don’t think you’re getting away that easily, Apprentice.” He thought he heard Slade taunt, but perhaps he imagined it over the pain and the fierce beating of his heart.

“ _Master Richard_ , I am not repeating myself.  You will come down this instant.”

Dick shock his head to brush off the memory.  “Alright, alright. I’m coming down.” No, it was for the best that Dick kept pretending he had only imagined Slade’s call. It could have just as easily been something he dreamed up in a nightmare. No matter, for now, he had his freedom.

With an elegant push, Dick fell off the chandelier, pulling his body into two tight spins before landing theatrically, arms raised above his head.

“Ta-daa.” Alfred just sighed.

“Dick, you know how Alfred hates it when you do that.”  Dick turned at the sound of Bruce’s voice.

“Sorry. Did I wake you up?”

Bruce shook his head, “No, I haven’t been sleeping much. I take it’s been the same for you?” He looked at the ground, nodding. Somehow, he never managed to keep his nightmares a secret.

“Well… let’s see if some breakfast can help any.”

A little while later they were sitting around the spacious breakfast table, Bruce sipping coffee while Dick sat opposite him, pushing the eggs around his plate.

_The eggs were hard and cold since he had fought Slade every step of the way to the small kitchen.  He might still be struggling in closed space of the isolation room if the older man hadn’t finally dug his fingers into his neck and used to other hand to grab his hair and steer him to the table._

_"You can eat and start your training today, or you can go back to your room until you’re ready to beg for food and then start training.” Dick had shot Slade the coldest look he could manage and, with a sweeping motion, pushed the plate to the floor where it shattered, the eggs flying over the tile.  The look in Slade’s eyes promised punishment._

Dick stabbed the eggs again. They were warm and soft. He eyed the newspaper on the table sitting next to a pile of unopened letters. He really should read and catch up on what had been going on in his absence.

“Master Bruce, one of the letters on the table demands your attention as soon as possible. It’s from Master Richard’s school, I believe it is in regard to his unexplained absence for a period of time now.”

“What did I tell them?” Bruce said reaching for the letter, his brow furrowing as he tried to remember the small detail from a time when he had been desperate with panic.

“Your exact words?” Bruce raised an eyebrow.

“I believe you told them it was a personal matter, and that if they wanted their funding they wouldn’t question the actions of, _ahem_ , Bruce - effing - Wayne, pardon my language.”

Dick couldn’t repress a snort.  “It seems,” Alfred continued, “Even your reputation can only be stretched so far.”

Bruce studied Dick for a moment. “What’s your thought on returning to school?”

After the therapy session of disaster, Dick was in no hurry to reconfront his team. However, a bunch of people who didn’t know anything about his alter ego? People who wouldn’t judge him for anything more trivial than his choice of clothes or social qualms? Hell, just being around _people_ again sounded great.

“I’d like that.”

Bruce nodded, “Alfred if you could...?” The faithful butler nodded and took the letter from him.

“Not hungry again, Master Richard?” Everything on Dick’s place had been scooted around, but little had been eaten. His appetite had been spotty at best lately.

_"This is what happens when you don’t eat,” Slade said standing over his curled form on the ground. Slade’s foot jabbed a tender bruise on his thigh. Dick couldn’t stop the moan that escaped.  True to his word, Slade had keep him locked in the room for who knew how long, a few days at least. His stomach had started feeling like it was caving in on itself day or two ago. Time was impossible to tell in here. The pure whiteness of the walls was blinding.  Training with Slade couldn’t possibly be worse than lying here hungry and sore.  As Slade wanted, he had begged. “Get up. You’re going to need your strength for today.”_

Dick shoved a forkful of eggs in his mouth. “Nah, just going slow this morning, Alf.  Besides, I want to hit the gym later.”

“Dick.” He turned to look at Bruce whose brow was tense. He was thinking hard about something. “I think we need to sit down later and talk. I have meetings most of the day, but perhaps after work we could discuss things together.” Geez, he sounded like he was penciling in a business lunch. But, it was something Dick had gotten used to years ago.

“Ok.” So, today was the day. He took a deep breath and could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on. “I’m going to go work out some. Thanks for breakfast.” Now, he really needed to hit the gym. He needed to clear his head.

Dick had always used the gym as an outlet before, but now when he trained it was in an overzealous, almost frantic kind of way. He told himself that he was just trying to get his strength back up, to improve himself to get back to his duties as Robin. But, he knew that wasn’t the case any longer.  Instead of training to protect his city, it was feeling more and more like he was training just to protect himself.

Dick was certain Bruce and Alfred had noticed his abnormal hours in the gym, but neither of them commented on it explicitly. Alfred tried to distract him by asking for help in the kitchen or assigning him mundane tasks, but it never worked for long.

The sounds of a radio talk-show filled the gym; their voices were happy.  They were praising an actor he had never heard of in a movie he had never seen.  It didn’t matter, he only turned it on to hear the other people talking.  Dick was working on the rings, holding his strained body with his arms parallel to the ground. Sweat beaded on his brow and caused the sleeveless workout shirt to stick to his skin. His arms were shaking, but he forced himself to remain in place.

_"You really don’t have much muscle, do you?”_

_"My other skills make up for it,” he snapped back. The flash in Slade’s singular blue eye was the only warning before he charged. Dick moved to the side to meet him with a kick to the gut when he felt Slade’s hand snatch his ankle out of the air. Suddenly, he was flying through the air and collided roughly with the wall on the opposite side of the room… a good thirty feet from where Slade was now standing. How in the world did he do that?_

_“No. They don’t.”_

“If you’re trying to lose the feeling in your arms, there’s easier ways to do it, you know.”

The voice pulled Dick out of his head and seemed to be the pushing point for his arms as they suddenly gave. His hands slipped from the rings, but managed to land on his feet in the short distance to the mat.

Wally grinned and waved from a bench off to the side.  “I was wondering how long you were going to be doing that.”

“Wally,” Dick said with a small smile, “how long have you been standing there?” What could he have possibly come to the manor for? Did he want to ask questions? Maybe he came with news from the team. Maybe they had decided they didn’t want him around after all. Maybe –

“Just a couple of minutes. Alfred buzzed the intercom, but you didn’t answer so I just came down.”

“Oh.” He had been so spacey lately. Maybe he should ask Bruce about techniques to help focus, that is, if the whole exchange wouldn’t be too awkward.  Bruce would probably ask why he was so spacy… maybe he could look online instead.  He reached across Wally to where his water bottle and a towel were waiting.  His arm trembled.

“I wanted to, um…” Wally’s eyes flicked to the fading red electrical burns around his neck then to the matching ones around his wrists from when Slade’s suit had activated. “I wanted to see how you were doing. I’ve been worried about you.”

God he hated that pitying look. If everyone would just _stop staring_ at the marks and the scars. He saw it in Bruce, Alfred, Dinah, even Megan, and now Wally too? It was like he was some fragile china doll that would shatter if one breathed on it too hard.  If anything, his time with Slade showed he could certainly take his fair share of hits. He deserved a lot of things but pity was not one of them.

“I’m fine, just been getting back up to speed.” There was that look again.

“Do… do you wanna go sit down somewhere? We could talk and--”

“Did Bruce put you up to this?” Dick heard himself interrupt, sharp and accusing.

“What? No!” Wally looked almost hurt. “Dude, you’ve been gone for almost two months and you come back looking like that,” He gestured to Dick’s neck. “I’m worried, and I want to help you. I want to be here for you because that’s what best friends do.”

Dick bit his lip. Wow, he sounded like an asshole, barking at Wally unprovoked. Why was he yelling at the one person on his side?

“I’m sorry … I just don’t want to talk about it.” He just wanted to forget.

“You know, maybe not me, but you should talk to someone.  This,” Wally gestured vaguely, “working till your arms can’t support you? What are you trying to do? I mean… It’s not healthy, dude.”

“I don’t need help.” 

He didn’t want to be alone any more, his gut ached not to be alone.  But, he couldn’t let Wally or anyone in close enough to see.  If he did, Wally would see him for what he’d become. They would _know_ , and he would be untouchable, unforgiveable. The distance was best for everyone. Wally couldn’t help him.

“Yes, you do! You can’t keep doing this.”  They couldn’t know what happened while he was with Slade, he reminded himself. They _couldn’t_.

“No, I needed help six weeks ago.  Dammit Wally, I don’t want your help -- it’s too late!”

“Dick…”  If only he could go back before all this happened.

“I…I’m sorry.” He knew what he was doing then. He had known who he was back then.

“Dick. I’m so sorry.” Wally’s eyes were filled with hurt and regret. He took a step forward to embrace him, and Dick took a step back.  For a moment, he thought about returning Wally’s hug and begging him to stay, just to be near someone again.

“Can you leave?”  But he couldn’t. He really didn’t deserve a friend like Wally.  Wally certainly didn’t deserve to have someone tainted like him acting as a sorry excuse for a friend.  Maybe if he had been smarter, stronger, better he would have been able to escape Slade without becoming someone who had no right to be around people Wally.

Dick kept his eyes glued to the floor so he wouldn’t have to bear the look on his friend’s face. The seconds ticked by.

“I’m just trying to help you.”

“It’s too late,” his voice a hoarse whisper. It didn’t matter. Wally was long gone, and he was alone in the gym, willing the tears not to fall.

God he was pathetic.


	6. Fireside Chats

Bruce’s briefcase hit the kitchen table loudly as he sat down wearily, a hand massaging his brow. The meeting that was scheduled for four hours ended up running for six. Six hours of sitting in a room filled with people smiling fake smiles, talking over each other, and trying to woo him for more money. He let out a long sigh as Alfred came out with a steaming plate, a steak with a side of mixed vegetables and rice.

“Another long day, sir?”

“Aren’t they all?” He mumbled, beginning to eat.  The whole time he had been distracted thinking about Deathstroke. During the meeting, he had come up with a list of information he needed to track him down and had mentally organized it in order of crucially.

“Are you still planning on speaking with Master Richard tonight?” Bruce nodded with a swallow.

“He’s been adjusting well, and we can’t afford to wait any longer.” Alfred just gave him a look. For being the world’s greatest detective, Alfred could be an enigma when he wanted.

“What?”

Alfred let out a long breath. What could he possibly be annoyed with now? “Master Wally came over today.”

“I’m sure Dick appreciated that.”

“He only stayed for a matter of minutes. When he left, both boys were quite distraught.” Bruce set his fork down with a sigh. Perhaps he had assumed too quickly.

“Sir, I know you plan on speaking with him today. But… please try to be sensitive.  For whatever reason, he seems to be trying to push people away. You must reassure him that you are here to support him no matter what.”  Bruce frowned at his cooling dinner.

“Alfred… what if he did something while he was with Deathstroke?”

“Sir?”

“I’m saying what if he killed someone.”

Alfred said nothing for a moment, eyes wide with shock. “To suggest that Master Richard would _ever_ take a life is a grave misjudgment of his character.”

“I know Dick would never. I helped raise him Dick would never kill. But…Alfred, he hasn’t been acting like Dick. And, if Deathstroke truly wanted to make him his apprentice, he sure as hell wasn’t teaching him how to write poetry and bake pies!”

He could see the gears turning in Alfred’s mind. The only hint to his thoughts was the slight look of disapproval.

“I need to know what happened. I need to know what he knows.”

“I just ask that you treat him for who he is and not what you presume him to be.”

“And who is he?” Bruce kept feeling like he didn’t know anymore.

“ _Family_ , sir.”

Bruce let out another long sigh. Of course Alfred was right. Dick needed emotional support, which he certainly wasn’t getting alone in the manner while he was constantly busy with both his day and night jobs. But, if Dick wouldn’t even talk to Wally, why would Dick talk to him? It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to Dick – the opposite, in fact – but he didn’t know how. Part of him was terrified of saying the wrong thing and making things even worse for the poor kid.  He had to try anyways. For family. What little of it he had left.

“Could you ask Dick to come to my office room in a few minutes?” Alfred nodded and, as Bruce stood, moved to clear the half eaten plate.

“If both of you are going to stop eating, I’m going to stop wasting food and find a better use for it instead.  Perhaps, I could fashion it into a two way telephone system, since this house is clearly lacking in methods of communication.”

“Dick didn’t eat? Where is he anyways?” He asked, choosing to ignore the comment.

“I’m afraid not, and, if I had to guess, I would presume he is on the chandelier again.”

Bruce loosed his tie and ran a heavy hand through his hair. “I’ll be in my office.”

The office was spacious and extravagantly decorated, but had no windows. After years of rearranging, no amount of lamps seemed to sufficiently brighten the room. The bookshelf ran from floor to ceiling, decorated with trivial awards, and its rich mahogany matched that of the desk.  It was his father’s desk, a fact of which he was constantly reminded by the large portrait of his father directly centered behind it.

Bruce began to unpack his brief case. When he was a kid, he had always known he would take over his father’s position, but he had never really know what that entailed. To be the elite socialite, the cut throat businessman, and the head of a family all in one.  While he could manage the parties, the women, and the schmoozing, Bruce hated having to put on a smile and pretending to be unaware of the blood that tainted Gotham’s the sociopolitical waters. He certainly wasn’t the businessman his father was – that title when entirely to Lucius Fox.  Then… trying to fill the role of a father… He had _no_ idea what he was doing. And Dick was paying the price for it. 

There were times when he wondered if he had made the right decision taking in Dick as his ward.  Especially times like these when Dick was hurting directly because of the life Bruce brought him into.  He knew Dick had been miserable at the Juvenile Detention Center, but someone would have come along for him eventually – Dick was such a good kid. Someone nice who could have been better for him.  Someone who wouldn’t _fail_ Dick and leave him with a monster like Deathstroke for _six weeks_.

He had failed Dick -- that much was certain to Bruce. Perhaps that was why Dick had refused him, why Dick kept avoiding him. It was all because he didn’t want to be reminded of the man who wasn’t there when he needed him. What kind of man did that make him, then? Not a man at all. 

The eyes of his father bore upon Bruce’s back. He would make it up to Dick, he at least had to try.  Bruce saved people every night. He could prove to Dick that he was strong enough to be there for him as well.  Show that he was capable of protecting the people close to him.  To be the man of the house that his father was.  Maybe then Dick would accept him again. Maybe not as a hero, but as a man Dick could rely on again.

“Bruce? Alfred said you wanted to see me,” Dick said softly, stepping into the office.

Bruce stood behind the desk, sucking in a breath and drawing himself up to his full height. Tall, proud, and strong. Just as his father had been.  The first step to being the kind of man he wanted to be was defeating the man who dared to challenge him and threaten his family.

“I want you to tell me about Deathstroke.” Dick swallowed.

“What do you want to know?”

Bruce felt his eyes narrow. Dick should know better than to ask a question like that. “ _Everything_.”

Dick’s eyes went wide for a second, then he run a hand through his hair as if trying to brush off a bad thought. When he finally spoke, his voice was mechanical and laconic.

“After the Clayface mission, when you said you wanted to speak with just Aqualad, I went back to the manor. I was in civvies, but Deathstroke must have been watching for a while because he jumped me on the way there.  He used come kind of chloroform, strong. I don’t remember anything until I woke up in the Haunt.”

Dick took a moment to steady himself, taking a deep breath before breaking eye contact with Bruce and instead staring at his nails. “I later found out the Haunt was located just outside of Gotham’s boarders, on the northern-east side, but still within the Falcone family territory. Slade’s goal was to train me as his apprentice, his successor. He claimed to have been following me since my circus days. He is also aware of both our identities.” Then, softer, “I was the reason he was able to put it together.”

However, Bruce didn’t hear the last part. He was too busy reeling over the fact that he had been found out. _This is bad_.  Especially for someone like Deathstroke to know one of the highly guarded secrets of the Justice League. He could use the information for himself or perhaps auction it off to the highest bidder.  A long list of security updates instantly started in his mind.

“If he knew my identity, our identities, why didn’t he act on it sooner? What did he want to know them _for_?”

“After I found another detonator and infected myself with the nanobots, Slade couldn’t use them as a threat anymore since it meant killing his apprentice as well.  Instead, he had a file with all the information he had on us, our names, histories, weakness, and … fears. He threatened to sell the file either as a whole or in parts to Gotham’s villains.”

“Is that what Deathstroke meant on the rooftop? About his leverage?”

Dick nodded, his face solemn. “I deleted it. It’s gone.”

“What if Deathstroke decides to make a new one, since he knows all the information?”

“He won’t. People would doubt if it is true, and the information on our strengths and weaknesses is already known.” Dick paused before continuing, “There were also… pictures that got deleted which would have solidified his claim.”

“What were the pictures of?”

Dick swallowed, hands clutching each other tight enough for his nails to leave red half-crescents on his skin.  “Me.”

“To prove you were Robin?” Bruce said, drawing the conclusion for himself. “So anyone could make the connection that I’m Batman.”

A tremble pass through Dick’s body as the boy nodded again, his lips pressed in a tight line.  Bruce could see him starting to lose his self-control. But, he still needed more information. Dick could handle it.

“I need you to tell me about the people he was in contact with that you knew of.  Places he frequented. Anything that could help me find where he might be.”

Dick took a steadying breath. He clenched and then released his fists, eyes coming up to meet Bruce’s, ready to comply as he gained control once more.  “I know he has done jobs for the Falcone family, the Penguin, and various wealthy citizens including Diane Rothschild and Colin Bosworth.”

Bruce’s eyes widened at the last name. Bosworth was a member of his own board who was currently on leave of absence as his daughter had been kidnapped a couple weeks ago. He had given him an extravagant paid leave and generous gift of his condolences. Since he had been in the middle of his own grief over Robin’s absence, it had hit him especially hard.  Dick didn’t seem to register his surprise and continued in the same monotonous fashion.

“I know he was also in contact with Count Vertigo, Poison Ivy, Queen Bee, Ra’s al Ghul, and Sportsmaster. Sportsmaster and Ra’s both visited the Haunt while I was there.”

Bruce nodded absently. This was something he could work with. Finally, he could start his hunt.

“Are you sure you deleted all of it?”

Dick paused for a moment. “Yes.” His eyes looked so _haunted_.

“Dick…” Bruce started, but found himself struggling for the right words. “I’m going to fix this. I’m going to find him.” Dick only turned his head away. He looked like he was trying not to cry and it hit Bruce like a blow to the gut.

“You _can’t_.”

“Yes, I _can_.”

Dick shook his head and the tears begin to slip, betraying him. He pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes in an attempt to make them stop. Or maybe just to stop Bruce from seeing him cry.

“No. He got what he wanted. He _always_ gets what he wants.  The only reason he hasn’t shown up yet is because he doesn’t want me now. But, when he does… when he does…” A sound somewhere between a whimper and a wail slipped through Dick’s lips. He began to curl in on himself, his hands practically clawing at his eyes now.  “ _Oh god_ , he’ll beat me again …h-he’ll… he’s going t-to--”

Having spent his whole life in Gotham, Bruce knew the signs of a panic attack when he saw them. Of course, Robin did too. The problem with panic attacks was that the best way to pull someone out of it varied from person to person. He still hadn’t figured out what Dick’s was yet. Touching he had presumed to be out of the question days ago.

“Dick. Stop it. Look at me.” Dick’s breath hitched again but Bruce saw that he had heard. “That’s an _order_.”

With that, Dick peeled his palms away and straightened his spine. His eyes were red and irritated, but he was back in the present. It wasn’t the most tender way to handle things, but it worked. Obedience was a trait Dick had learned at a young age.  He didn’t know what else to do.

“He is not going to come back. I won’t _let_ him. You’re distraught. You just need more time, then you’ll see. You’re safe here, Dick. I promise.”

Bruce felt like he should be closer to Dick perhaps put a comforting hand on his shoulder as his father had with him. But neither of them had moved since the beginning with Bruce still behind the desk, and Dick still standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. The distance seemed too far to be crossed without discomfort on both their parts. The last thing Dick needed was for Bruce to try to touch him when he clearly didn’t want it, anyways.

Dick continued to hold his gaze, as Bruce had told him to, although he clearly wanted to look away. “Go get some rest, Dick. Tomorrow we can go to the mountain and remove the nanobots. We’ll get you back in school. It may not feel like it now, but eventually things will return to normal.”

Dick wasted no time pulling his eyes away from Bruce. As Dick left, he paused in the doorway. “You know, Bruce. That’s something you never seem to understand.” Dick lifted his eyes to meet Bruce’s again having regained his composure.  “Things _always_ return to normal.  But, _us_ … When those things touch us the way they have… _we_ never do.”

“You know I understand that as well as you do.”

“If you did you wouldn’t be dressing up as the thing your nine-year-old self was afraid of and keeping the clock to the batcave at the time of your parent’s death.”

When Dick shut the door on his way out, Bruce turned to the portrait of his father, looking for guidance as he had many times before. Yet, now it just seemed like oil smeared on an aging canvas, waiting for Alfred to clear away the dust only for it to start collecting it once again.


	7. Game Over. Try Again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two chapters might be my favorite ones to write so far. So, enjoy :)

Dick still didn’t want to go to the mountain.  It had been almost a week since he had last seen his teammates (if they even _were_ his teammates anymore). Bruce seemed to be oblivious to his apprehensions about seeing the team again and had practically insisted that he start getting back into his normal routine. Which meant first becoming nanobot-free.

As Mount Justice came into view, Dick snuck in a glance at his costumed mentor. Bruce kept his eyes forward although Dick was certain he knew Dick was watching him. Ever since he had snapped at Bruce in the office, Bruce had been even more distant, intently focused on something that was never him.  The man spent nearly all his waking hours when he was not acting as Bruce Wayne or patrolling as Batman in the cave doing research on Slade.  He was starting to suspect that Bruce was ignoring him.

_"One of the first things you need to learn is respect. You can have my attention when you’ve earned it.”_

_Dick only nodded, still weak from his forced hunger strike. He’d already decided he’d listen to whatever stupid training thing Slade wanted him to do. He was dressed in Slade’s uniform, the ‘features’ of which Slade had demonstrated earlier.  Dick could only suppress a scowl as Slade grabbed him by the back of his neck and pulled him roughly towards the open gym of the haunt. One of Slade’s robots followed silently behind._

_At the time, he hadn’t known that would be the last time Slade would speak to him for almost a week._

_In that time, he was told where to go when Slade grabbed him by the hair or the neck and told what to do when Slade pointed like a master to a dog. Although, more often than not, he was simply locked in a room with a list of exercises and tasks to do. The robot always followed. It was the only thing that would talk to him by occasionally interrupting what he was doing with a monotonous “wrong” or “again.” He suspected that was all it knew how to say._

_He thought he’d be glad for Slade’s inattention, but that wasn’t quite right. Slade was always watching him even when he spent most of his days alone (with the exception of the robot).  Perhaps it was an aftereffect of his time in the isolation room, but having Slade always so close yet refusing to acknowledge him slowly became agonizing in a way Dick would have never imagined._

_Ignoring or misinterpreting an order led to punishment. All he could do was try to follow the instruction of the man who refused to look him in the eye.  At first he mimicked Slade’s cool apathy, then he tried to lash out, which only got him punished again. Finally, he realized he would have to fight for Slade’s attention.  He would have to prove he was something worth even looking at.  He came to relish the rare times when Slade would catch his eye and just barely nod his head in approval._

Now, as mentor and mentee stepped into the atrium of the mountain, Bruce immediately lengthened his stride to pass in front of him and reach the computer in the middle of the room.  It left him with a twisted feeling in his gut.  A voice in the back of his mind named it _worthless_.

“Good morning, Robin.” Canary greeted brightly, emerging from the tunnels to the inner mountain. “Batman said you’d be coming, but, admittedly, I didn’t think he meant so early.” Both of the older heroes were in costume while he stood pathetically next to them in his school khakis and a white t-shirt.

“Yeah, I’m starting school today. Batman wanted to get it done early.”

“At 4:30 am?”

“I’m usually up at this time anyways.”

Canary chuckled, “Well, I am too, but you’re young. You need your sleep.”

“Yeah…” He could only manage sheepishly. It wasn’t going to happen, but he would humor her.

“Robin, let’s get started.” Batman intoned from the computer.

As he took a seat in the sci-fi looking chair, Batman pressing sensors to his skin, Connor and Megan came into the atrium.

“Hello, Robin! Connor told me you and Batman were here. Are you going to be staying? I could make some pancakes.”

He smiled, Megan was so sweet. “Hey Megan, Connor. Sorry, but we’re not staying long. We both have places to be this morning.”

“Oh, well that’s too bad. Connor? Do you want pancakes later?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Connor’s gaze turned to Dick. “You said you have school?”

“I guess you heard that bit. Yeah, today’s my first day back.”

Connor nodded, and Dick could see him wondering what going to a real school must be like.

Superboy was still so young and inexperienced about the world. There had to be a way to show him more of the real world instead of keeping him cooped up in the mountain all the time. Maybe the team could take a road-trip, show him a little bit of the world. Something to give him some idea of the world outside the mountain and the Justice League.

“I’m going to turn it on,” Bruce said from the computer.

Dick nodded and a warm buzz coursed through him, and it was over.

Bruce eyed him, asking if he was all right, and Dick nodded in response.  He had been electrocuted enough times for something as low voltage as this to bother him at all. Bruce approached him there was a slight aura of approval about him. 

Dick began peeling off the sensors under his shirt, on his stomach while Bruce helped by starting with the ones on his shoulder and working his way up. Suddenly, Dick’s mind when blank as he felt a hand pressing on the back of his neck. He gasped as the memory hit him like a bullet.

_Slade’s fingers were digging into his neck deep enough to leave bruises, matching the five others to make a complete set. It always started with a hand on his neck. Dick squirmed under his grip, but he knew he was trapped. He had_ really _screwed up this time.  He had made a biting comment during training, saying he hoped Slade never had children, when the man had snapped._

_“Slade, Slade I’m sorry! I didn’t know!” He pleaded, but Slade was focused ahead and refused to acknowledge him. Dick had never seen him this angry before. Twisting in Slade’s grip, Dick noticed which room Slade was leading him to, and his heart dropped._

_"Slade. No! Please, don’t do this! I swear I didn’t--”  he was cut off as Slade’s hand cracked against his cheek._

_“You will never, EVER, mention my family again.” Slade shoved him into the ground as he stood._

_“Never! I swear, please don’t!” Slade ignored him as his large hands still gloved in his uniform wrapped around the whip hanging off the wall. Dick’s heart went berserk. “Master, please!”_

_His mind grappled for something, anything that would appease the man.  The first whipping had left him terrified.  He couldn’t go through it a second time. “I’ll never do it again! Please!”_

_"Damn right you won’t,” Slade growled. His armed pulled back for the first strike._

A scream like a small animal caught in a hunter’s trap cut through the stillness of the mountain. It wasn’t his. He couldn’t catch his breath. Dick was doubled over in the chair, eyes wide and breath short, gasping for air. His hands clawed at this skin, but he couldn’t feel anything.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a grey blur before a hand connected with his cheek. _“You will never, EVER, mention my family again.”_

“Never! I swear _\--_ ” Dick lifted his head to see Bruce’s eyes laced with worry in front of his face. He was in the mountain again. “I’m sorry. I…I didn’t meant t-to… to lose focus.”

“Try to get your breathing under control. Use the technique I taught you.” Dick nodded, feeling his cheeks flare with embarrassment, the left one still stinging from the blow.  As Bruce stood, he saw Canary kneeling on the ground behind him next to a green and pink lump and… _oh no_.

“What did you do to her?!” Connor roared, his eyes locking with Dick’s.

“I-I didn’t meant to! I didn’t know she’d…” Megan let out a whimper as she trembled on the ground, clutching her head.

“M’gann, listen to my voice. What you’re seeing isn’t real. M’gann you have to pull yourself out of it,” Canary instructed, kneeling next to her.

Dick stumbled off the chair. This was all his fault.  He had to help her – she was suffering because of _his_ unchecked emotions.  However, as he come close, M’gann let out another cry.

“Robin, you have to leave. I’ll handle this.” Canary commanded.

“It was an accident… I- I didn’t meant to…” He stuttered before his vision was filled with the black of Batman’s suit.

“Robin, we’re _leaving_.” It was an order.

Reluctantly, Dick turned around and headed towards the zeta. Not, however, before catching Connor’s seething glare and bared teeth.  If he had heat vision, Dick was certain he would be dead. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but agree with Connor’s sentence.

Batman hurriedly punched in the code for the cave and within moments they were back where they started. This time with Dick feeling a hundred times worse, arms wrapped tightly against his stomach, and eyes glued to the ground.  There was a cold, empty feeling in his gut.

“You two are back early. I was planning on – oh my.”

“I’m going to go back to the mountain and try to help,” Bruce said, shifting away from Dick’s side. Dick nodded numbly. “Alfred, make sure he gets to school on time.”

“Recognized. Batman – 02.”

Dick didn’t move. Right now, M’gann suffering, and it was _all his fault_. He couldn’t do anything about it. Once again he had hurt her.  How did he keep doing this to his _friends_?

“Master Richard? Are you all right?”

He didn’t want to hurt them anymore. _He_ didn’t want to hurt any more.  A sob broke his lips, and, before he knew it, he had fallen to his knees. Hot, heavy tears streamed down his cheeks as he covered his face with his hands.  He couldn’t stop the sudden onslaught of heaving, uneven wails.

“Oh, you poor boy. Come here.” A gentle hand rested on his back, and he flinched before realizing it was only Alfred. With that, he turned towards the old man and clutched at his perfectly ironed suit, wetting it with his tears as he continued to sob.  The older man instinctively wrapped his arms around Dick. He smelled like aged wood and kitchen spices – he smelled like _home_.  Slowly, as Alfred held him and whispered soothing words, Dick was slowly able to regain control of his breathing and the tears slowed to a stop.

“It’s my fault, Alfred.” He choked out, pulling his head out of his chest.

“What do you mean?”

“M’gann read my mind on accident and… she was crying and shaking and…I didn’t mean to. It’s just been happening lately, and I keep _hurting_ them Alfred.”

“Oh, Dick. It wasn’t your fault.” He pulled Dick in closer, and Alfred could feel him relax with the embrace. That was when he knew Bruce had been wrong in giving Dick space.  “I know you wouldn’t never hurt them on purpose.”

Dick let out another sob and squeezed Alfred tighter. _Oh_ , Alfred cringed, mentally berating himself. “That was not of your own will, Master Richard. Don’t you think for one second that you should harbor all the blame for that man’s crimes.  I know your heart is good. Any other hero who is worth their salt will see it too.  You’ve made so many sacrifices.  You must give yourself a break and have some time to step back and take care of yourself.”

“I don’t deserve it.” Alfred hugged him tighter.

“ _Yes_. You _do_.”

They stayed like that for an indefinite amount of time, each curled in the other’s embrace, savoring the feeling of family in a moment of comfort.

Dick mumbled something into Alfred’s suit, finally breaking the silence of the cave.

“You’ll have to repeat that, Master Richard.”  
“I said I need to get to school soon.”

“You do _not_ need to go to school today.  I’ll call them later.”

“But, Bruce said--”

“Master Wayne has been acting dead from the neck up for a while.  I will handle him.”

“No… I- I want to go. I want to see everyone again.”

“Master Richard…”

“I’m sure Alfred. Could you please drive me?”  Alfred sighed as Dick pulled himself up, offering a hand to the older man.

“Very well. Your jacket and bag are waiting upstairs,” he said reluctantly.

 

               

“Recognized. Batman-02.”

As Batman stepped into Mount Justice, he was surprised to find it empty. He made his way swiftly towards the med bay. M’gann was inside one of the rooms, laying still in one of the beds, appearing to be asleep. Black Canary and Connor were on opposite sides of the bed, Connor gazing at M’gann’s prone form with worry and frustration at being unable to help. Canary noticed Batman in the window and gave him a confused look before coming to the door.  She was sure to shut it behind her before motioning for him to follow her back to the atrium of the mountain.

“Is she going to be ok?” He asked.

“Yeah, she came out of it a few moments after you left. She’s just sleeping now. But that’s _not_ the point.”

Batman waited patiently for her to finish, expression unreadable. What was she going on about now?

“My point, _Bruce,_ is what the _hell_ are you doing?”

“Don’t.” He growled a warning at the sound of his name.

“ _No_.” She said, eyes narrowed. Dinah was on the war path.  “What in the world is going on with Dick? No one knows what happened when he was with Deathstroke, but you said you would take care of him. You know what I saw today?”

Bruce didn’t respond.

“You _NOT_ taking care of him.”

“He’s getting better. He just needs time. Today’s he’s starting school and--”

“Wait,” Dinah said cutting him off with a swipe of her hand. “That kid just had a panic attack severe enough to put M’gann in such a state, and you’re sending him to _school_?”

“He wanted to go back. He can handle it.”

“No, Bruce. That’s exactly the point. He can’t handle it, and apparently neither can you.  That boy is traumatized. Have you even talked to him about it?”

“Of course,” He said, returning her glare with one of his own.

“And?”

“He said was being blackmailed into acting as Deathstroke’s apprentice with the lives of his friends and then information that would lead to the compromise of our identities. He also gave me a list of contacts which I’ve been researching. I plan on starting fieldwork of tracking Slade in the next few days.”

“Oh my god.” Canary was looking at him as if he had just confessed to a murder instead of revealing his important progress.

“He’s doing fine, Dick’s already better than when first got here.”

“Christ, Bruce. I meant actually talk to him, not _debrief_ him.  You’re wrong. He is not fine. He is leaps and bounds away from fine. That boy needs help, dammit.  And, you better hear me when I say you _will_ make sure he get it.”

“Is that a threat?”

“You bet your ass it is. I will bring the entire League down on your thick head if it means helping Dick.”

She was actually serious. “Fine.” He wasn’t be happy about it, but it probably wouldn’t make things any worse for Dick, aside from being a colossal waste of time. Bruce had spent enough with psyches to know it was a load of crap for people like them. But, he’d play along for now.

“You have my contact information. I want him in here for therapy this week.”

Bruce didn’t respond, instead turning to leave, silently fuming from her accusations. He may not always know what was best for Dick, but he _knew_ him like no one else.

“You do right by him,” She called after him.  “Please do right by him...”

 

 

The warning bell had just rung, but Barbara Gordon was still at her locker. She knew her history book was in here, but just couldn’t _find_ it. Had she left it at home and just forgotten or…?

“Hey, aren’t you the commissioner’s daughter?” Barbara’s eyes narrowed at the back of her locker. She hated that question. People thought it was _so funny_ to single her out and give her crap about her father.

“I’ll _tell_ you who I am. I’m--” As Barbara turned, instead of an annoying jockhead, it was a short scrawny kid with gelled black hair.

“Hey, Babs.”

“Dick!” She yelled and immediately encircled him in a hug.  At first his body tensed, then he relaxed into it, returning the embrace. “Oh god, I missed you. Where have you been? Why didn’t you tell me anything, it’s been like two months!”

“I missed you too, Babs.  It was kind of sudden, I’m sorry.” He admitted as he pulled away. She knew that was all she was going to get out of him. She wouldn’t push.

“I’m glad you’re back, shortpants.” The smile wouldn’t leave her face. She had been so worried, like she always was when he missed school. It had never been for this long before. Thank god he was ok, she thought over and over again. “But, you know, if you want my notes for what you missed, you’re going to owe me lunch or something.”

“Anything you say,” he said with a lopsided grin. “Wanna walk to class?”

“Sounds good, I think left my history book at home.”

“Who needs history, anyways?” Dick quipped.

“Not me.” It felt good to have her friend back, their banter picking up like he had never been gone.

“Not me, squared.” He said with a definitive nod.

For the first time in a while, Dick had a good day.


	8. History Has A Way

Contrary to popular belief, Alicia Sanchez did _not_ hate working at the Ginger’s, the tiny diner tucked in one of the only-semi-shady corners of Gotham. For all the times she vented to her friends at Gotham University about the stresses of being a full time student and part-time night shift employee, it was honestly a pretty good deal.  Sure, she had witnessed her fair share of drunks, druggies, and thugs on her shifts, but that was just the Gotham norm. Plus, Ginger, the rose cheeked, stocky chef and part-owner, keep her entertained with witty jokes and engaging stories about her time in the navy. The woman was also surprisingly good with a bat kept near the register. It was nicknamed Christmas Spirit.

Most nights she was in the diner waitressing, and after working there for almost a year now, she had come to recognize the regulars. She even knew the names of some of the friendlier ones.  Although, keeping with Gotham culture, that was about all she knew (that and how much they would tip if she felt like flirting for extra). People didn’t talk to strangers in this city. It was too dangerous. ‘Don’t ever look people in the eye when you’re walking down the street, Alicia’, her mother had told her when she was growing up. ‘That’s how some people choose their victims, you know, they go after the brave ones. I don’t like it either, _mija_ , but sometimes it’s the nail that sticks up that gets hammered down first.’

But, she had more faith in the people then her mother did, despite seeing the same chaos that plagued their city.  While she was on shift, Alicia liked to while away the time making up stories about the lives of the guests.

There was the elderly man in the same fashionable fedora who came to read the newspaper and drink coffee, on occasion he ordered the rhubarb pie. She imagined he was a retired doctor who fell in love with a woman with an adventurous spirit. He made enough for her to travel wherever she wanted, but, while he loved her, he also loved his city and couldn’t be brought to leave it. They left each other gracefully -- she to the coasts of Greece, and he to Ginger’s twice a week.

Then, there was the two women who took the booth in the corner and chatted; the blonde ordered the burger and fries while the brunette liked the BLT.  They always took photos the whole time, of their food, each other, Alicia had even been in a couple of them.  They were childhood friends who ended up meeting again in Gotham by chance.  They had been out one night relearning who their friend had grown up to become, when they were jumped by a mugger. However, before he was able to lay a hand on either of them, Batman and Robin had swooped in and rescued them. Since then, they have been inseparable.

The other person that always stood out to Alicia was an older Caucasian man with an eye patch. He had been the hardest person to come up with a backstory. He was always polite and tipped very well, but he never said much.  Every time, he would order either the meatloaf or the chef’s salad with exactly one cup of black coffee. Occasionally, he would pull out a small tablet and watch a show on it. He never stayed for more than an hour or two, and when he did he thanked both her and Ginger for the meal.  It took Alicia a while, but that night, as the strange eye-patch man came in, she decided.  He was a lover.

Sometime along the way, he loved a woman who changed him in a way. Maybe he even had kids, he didn’t look quite old enough to be a grandparent. That, and he was certainly withdrawn. Perhaps he was scholar of some sort, like a history professor.  He looked like he would know a lot of history facts.

“Excuse me?” She was pulled out of her daydream (or would it just be a normal dream since it was approaching midnight now?) as the eye-patch man called to her, giving a polite nod to his coffee cup.

“Ah, I’ll get you a refill.” She disappeared into the kitchen to grab the extra pot.

“You should take some coffee for yourself, dear. You look like shit.” Ginger said with a teasing smile.

“Hey, you’re not looking too sexy yourself with all that burger grease.”

“Takes away the wrinkles, darling. In a few years, you’ll see.” Ginger said with a hearty laugh.

“The weirdest thing just happened. You know eye-patch guy? He just asked for another cup of coffee. Almost a year and that’s never happened.”

“Now, you and I both know that’s not the weirdest thing to come through those doors.” Ginger returned and added with a wave of the spatula, “You know, maybe he’s trying to make a move.”

“No way! Have you seen him? He looks old enough to be my dad or something. Look!” Alicia said gesturing towards the small kitchen window. Though it, the back of the man’s head was bent over his tablet again.

“Hey, some men like them young.”

“Gross.  Even I have some standards left, you know. But, admittedly, we can’t all be spinsters here.”

“Oh, get the man his coffee, will ya?” Ginger said with a laugh and a light shove.

“Sorry about that,” Alicia said politely as she refilled the man’s mug. He had a strange, almost metallic scent.

“No need to worry about it. Thank you.”

“I have to ask though,” she said, curiosity getting the best of her. “You never have more than one cup. What’s the occasion?”

The man held her gaze for a while, and Alicia noticed his one eye was an almost icy blue.  This was the first time she had noticed. The man seemed polite enough, but something about that eye gave her chills.

“It’s been a two cup kind of night,” he said with a small smile.

“Sorry to hear that,” she said. “Maybe I can get you some pie to go with that?”

“No, thank you, I’m afraid I stopped eating that kind of thing a while ago. But… maybe you could ask about some tea later. I think I’ll be staying here longer than usual.”

“Oh, are you waiting on something?”

“Someone, actually.

“Well, I hope it’s not a lady you’re keeping waiting,” she said with a chuckle.

“A man, actually.”

“Oh.”

“We have a business meeting.”

“But it’s nearly--” Alicia cut herself off. One didn’t ask those types of questions in Gotham. No matter how bold. “I’ll check in about that tea later. You want me to take your plate?”

He nodded and she reached across the table for the clean plate. It had been the meatloaf tonight. As she did, she caught sight of the tablet pushed off to the side. It wasn’t a show at all, she realized. Rather, it seemed to displaying a camera feed of what looked like a bedroom. She quickly averted her eyes and retreated to the kitchen, reminding herself again of her mother’s words.

Slade Wilson watched the girl hastily rush away. He knew she had seen the video feed. He could have hid it if he wanted to, but frankly just assumed her to be too insignificant to really care.  For a moment he debated killing her anyway, but quickly decided against it. It was far too much trouble with no real reward. Plus, she was rather cute, in a youthful, innocent type of way, as a young and naive doe sniffing a trap might be.    

That night had certainly been a two cup kind of night. He had spent the day in his safe house going over plans and schematics and the night travelling all over Gotham.  It was tedious work, but all of it was necessary if we was going to get his apprentice back.

Slade glanced at the tablet again. It was currently set to a camera feed in Wayne manor. There were a few all around the house but this one was set in one Richard Grayson’s bedroom.  He had installed the cameras earlier, which had been much a much harder task then he anticipated since Wayne seemed to have upgraded everything threefold in the past couple days. Of course, this didn’t stop him from completing his task.  He was the _best_ , after all.

In the past week, he had set up cameras in all the known locations of anyone connected to the Richard and Young Justice team; Wayne manor, the West house, the Allen house, the Queen manor, and Gotham High. The next step was getting into Mount Justice, but that was a much taller task.  Far from impossible, but it required more work on his behalf. Hence, his ‘business’ meeting tonight.

He turned his gaze back to the tablet which showed Richard tossing in bed, hands clawing at the sheets and eyes scrunched tight in pain. He was in the middle of another nightmare, as Slade had come to realize was his routine of late.

His last meeting with the Bat hadn’t gone his way in the slightest, Slade could admit that. His careless mistake had cost him months of work and, at least temporarily, his apprentice. However, he was certainly not going to let this stop him. No, he would do what he always did and use it to his advantage. The more cameras he set up and the more information he gathered on his apprentice, the most he came to realize that perhaps this was good for the boy.  As the nightmares and videos of his breakdowns supported, Richard’s mental state was in shambles. That was unacceptable for his apprentice. 

As Slade had considered this, he knew, while it would be no challenge at all, pulling Richard back under his wing so soon might break him permanently.  He would have to work slowly and methodically.   As Wayne had told him, Richard needed time to heal. But, Slade needed him to heal in a way that wouldn’t bring him back to the mantel of Robin, as Wayne thought would happen.  He would pull his strings and Richard would come to realize that Slade was his only option.

Slade silently chuckled to himself as he switched feeds to Wayne’s office where the man sat at his desk, staring at the papers in front of him but not reading them. It didn’t take a genius to see that his mind was occupied by his ward a few rooms over. The best part of it was that Wayne would help drive Richard away without ever realizing it.  

“I’ll admit, Wilson, of all the places we’ve met this may be my favorite yet.” Slade looked up to see the lumbering man with buzzed blonde hair seat himself across the booth. Lawrence Crock, also known as the mercenary Sportsmaster.

“It’s a nice place,” he responded, flicking off the tablet before Lawrence could see.

“Can I get some pie over here? Lemon merengue.” Lawrence called to Alicia who was keeping her distance behind the counter. The girl nodded and slipped back into the kitchen. At least the girl had a good sense of danger. “I hope the food here is good.”

“I didn’t ask you to come here for the food.”

“Of course not. But, I’ll take my amenities where I can get ‘em,” the burly man said with a shrug, taking the pie from Alicia who didn’t look either man in the eye before leaving again.

“I have a favor to ask you, Lawrence,” Slade said, folding his hands on top of the table.

“Wilson, we’re good friends. We’ve done good work together. But, you know I don’t do free favors.”

“I know.  This is more a quid pro quo, if you will.”

“A _what_?”

“This for that. You help me and I’ll help you. I’m offering a free favor, which you know is a valuable thing.”

“I do indeed,” Lawrence said with a smile. “I know you’re a man of your word, Wilson. I’ll do it. What do you need from me?”

“It’s about your family.” Lawrence shifted back, his face flicking into a frown. However, he didn’t stop Slade. “I’m working on getting my apprentice back, and I need your daughter to do it.”

“Artemis then, not Jade.” Slade nodded. “You think because she and Robin are both on the tiny hero squad that she’ll turn him over? I can tell you now it won’t work. She’s stubborn like that.”

“I don’t need her help retaking my apprentice. I need her to infiltrate their base.”

“You won’t even tell me where their base _is_. You won’t tell me the identity of the bird, which I _know_ you know. I’m starting to think you’re holding out on me, Wilson.” Sportsmaster’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“The identity of my apprentice is not your business. But, I can assure you, the information I get from the mountain will be mutually beneficial.  There are certain things that I keep to myself. However, I mean it when I say I can give you the information you need. So, are you interested or not?”

“I’m listening.”

“She’s afraid of her connections to you. But, she thinks that, as long as she’s with the Justice League, she is protected. I need you to … _remind_ her of that fear. After which, I’m asking you to stay away from her and her mother.”

“Right until she needs reminding again, is that it?” Slade nodded. Sportsmaster wasn’t always the sharpest, but he was quick enough. “You want use me as leverage to make my own daughter tell you information on her team?”

Lawrence let out a barking laugh. “That’s low, Slade. But, I suppose you don’t have the same standards as the rest of us, do you?” He leaned across the table so Slade could smell the thick smell of cigarettes on his breath. “What with keeping that _boy_ around. I saw the marks on his neck when I was at your place” he said with a low whisper and a devilish smirk. 

Slade narrowed his eyes, reminding himself that he needed Crock to make this work. “Will you do it or not?”

“Yeah, I’ll do it. I won’t pass up a free favor. Besides, I’m due for a family reunion anyways.”

“Good.” Slade said with a nod, putting his tablet in the briefcase, and getting ready to call it a night. It was nearing 1 am.

Lawrence shoved the rest of the pie in one piggish gulp. “So,” he managed after a swallow, “was the bat’s kid any good in the sack, at least?”

In a moment, Slade’s blade was at Lawrence’s neck, whipped from its hidden spot in his jacket sleeve in the fraction of a second.  He kept his body positioned so the waitress would only see his grab at the other man’s neck and not the five inches of serrated steel. “ _Enough._ ” he hissed into Lawrence’s ear. Sportsmaster just gave a grunt of acknowledgement, and Slade sheathed the blade.

Standing up, Lawrence brushed the dust off his trench coat and slapped a couple bills on the table.  “I just thought it be good to remind you. You may be the best, but you’re not the better man, so don’t act like it. I may not have done right by my family, but to make a move on how I choose to handle my people is a bold transgression. I thought I’d remind you of that. You’re a family man, Wilson. You know how it is.”

“I do.”

“Thanks for showing me the café, Wilson. It’s nice. Good pie,” Lawrence called as he headed out, the door to the diner tinkling softly as he left.

Alicia was on the opposite side of the diner, but he managed to catch her eye when he cleared his throat loudly. The diner was almost empty save for a young man with large headphones in the other corner. “May I get that tea now?”

When the girl came back with the steaming mug, her hands were trembling so badly he was surprised she didn’t spill it.

“You don’t have to be afraid of my friend or myself. He’s helping me with family matter.”

“You two don’t look related,” she said softly, still refusing to meet his eye.

Slade couldn’t help a small smile. She was bold; he liked that. “He’s helping me find my… son. We have a history we’re trying to rekindle.”

“What kind of history?” Alicia’s eyes turned to catch his, but her hands remained close to her body in a defensive position.

“The kind that’s destined to repeat itself.”

As soon as the girl went back to the kitchen, he drained the mug in a one swell chug and paid his bill, leaving a near fifty percent tip. Ginger’s was a nice café. It was a shame he’d never be coming back.

Alicia watched the man leave, and a certain kind of chill passed through her.  She had a gut feeling he wasn’t looking for his son.  She also had a feeling it would be better for whoever it was if the man never found him.  However, she also knew she couldn’t do anything about it. Certainly not in a city like Gotham. 

“Alicia? Is that guy gone? Why don’t you head home, sweetheart? I can lock up.”

“I…I think I’ll take that coffee now, Ginger.”


	9. Stitches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update! Amazing! These chapters are rated F for excessive feels.
> 
> In other news, formatting has been corrected, new chapters have been written, and also I have a pet fish now. So, that's cool.

The thin thread pulled through the skin on his back, tugging at Dick’s skin in a strange but all too familiar manner. The slight tug of the end of one stitch followed by the cold prick of the needle followed by the pull of the thread. The rhythm of it was almost relaxing. That is, if Dick didn’t absolutely hate the feeling of hands on his back.  Once again he had opened up the cuts while working in the gym.

“I would tell you to take a break from your overzealous exercise routine, but you won’t listen to me, will you?” Alfred said softly, almost sadly.  Dick didn’t respond. He was right.

“You need to give this time to heal,” the wise old man said, tying off the last stitch.

“Thanks, Alfred.  I’ll deal with it,” he said tugging back on his shirt, grateful for the thin layer of cover.  Alfred only sighed.

“Do you want to go to school again today, Master Richard?”

“Of course. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.  This is only my third day.”

“Very well.”

               

Word of Dick’s return from his two month hiatus had spread around the school quickly.  The story they were going with was he had gotten a wild hair and Bruce had allowed him to take a two month vacation in their vacation house on the Italian coast. In the world of the excessively wealthy, it was irresponsible, sure, but not totally unsurprising.

He was waiting by Barbara’s locker before the first bell range. Admittedly, he was early, but he liked watching the people come in and fill the halls with noise.  He liked the feeling of being part of a crowd.

“Hey, Grayson! How was Italy?” A voice called, pulling Dick out of his daze. Looking up, he saw it was Westley Kramer calling from across the hall. He was a tall and lean Jewish boy with short, curly brown hair which he kept swept to one side.  They always seemed to have a couple classes together. This year it was English.  While they weren’t the closest of friends, Dick liked him. He was honest and thoughtful -- both things in short supply in Gotham.

“ _Meravilgioso_ ,” he called back with a grin.

“Great timing too. You missed having to read _Old Man and the Sea_. Spoiler alert, it’s another book about Jesus.” Immediately, Dick took in Westley’s nervous laugh and sweaty palms. What was he worked up about?

“Yeah, I’m sure I’ll have to do something to make it up though.”

“Hey, Dick I was wondering, um,” Westley started, but he was cut off by other voice calling across the hall.

“Dick! There you are! I have something to tell you,” Barbara called from the end of the hall.

“Hey, Babs. Hold on, Westley was going to ask me something.”

“Oh, I was just going to ask if you wanted to, uh… borrow my notes.”

“Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.” Dick could tell he was lying.

Westley rubbed the back of his neck, “Yeah. No problem. I’ll see you around, Dick. Later Barbara.”  He watched Westley turn and leave, his curiosity piqued.

“So, I was saying, you know the corner vender I told you about who gives my dad and I free coffee? The nice old guy? Well, we stopped there while I was coming to school and dad was going to work, and it turns out this vendor knows the couple who owns the bowling alley on Cross street. Long story short, he gave me a coupon for two free games, and they’re doing a disco night tonight. _Disco bowling_ , Dick. I’m cashing in on that favor you owe me, and we’re going.”

He chuckled, “ _Wow_ , where has this been all my life? It sounds like a blast, but I can’t.  I have an appointment I have to go to tonight.”

“Can’t you reschedule? Is it a doctor’s appointment? I’m sure there’s not many doctors in Gotham City who would refuse Bruce Wayne.”

“Sorry, he’s really adamant on this one. I can’t.” Barbara’s face fell.

“That’s all right, I’m sure they’ll do it again. Maybe some other time?”

“For sure. What is tomorrow, Friday?” Barbara nodded. Keeping track of the days recently had been a problem, especially since he was still only getting a couple of hours of sleep each night. “I’m pretty sure I’m free after school if you wanted to go then?”

“It’s a date, Grayson,” she said with a grin. He loved it when she smiled. “But, I’m warning you now. If you play with bumpers, I’m going to judge you hardcore.”

“Come on, that’s like… my signature move.”

“Are you saying you have no moves, Grayson?”

“I never said that.”

“That’s what it sounded like,” she remarked with a smirk

“Oh, you’re _on_ ,” he shot back, grinning ear to ear.

The bell rang, and as the two headed to class, Dick couldn’t help but be grateful for the short moments like these out of uniform.  Barbara was like this little piece of normalcy in his crazy life. She was special.  Especially these days when he felt his mind being pulled in a hundred different directions, being around Barbara was calming in a way he sorely needed.

That good mood stayed with Dick throughout the school day and all the way home where he was in the middle of working though a report when a knock came at his door.

“Come in.” Alfred stepped inside his tidy room.

“Master Bruce says for you to meet him downstairs for your appointment in an hour.” And that was the end of his good mood.

“Right. Thanks, Alfred. I’ll be down in a minute.” The butler nodded and silently shut the door behind him. Dick sunk lower in his desk chair with a groan.

After the last incident in the mountain, he had texted Bruce incessantly asking about M’gann’s condition.  He was rewarded with silence until the last period of the day when he responded saying he had been in back to back meetings the whole time and M’gann was “fine.” Yeah. No worries, Dickie. You may have left when she was on the ground sobbing, but she’s A-ok now. 

Dick massaged his temples. He had been trying not to think about it these past few days. Honestly, he didn’t know _what_ to think about it.  There was no doubt that she had seen one of his many moments of shame, trembling like a frightened dog at Slade’s feet, lying in wait for punishment to come.  He was embarrassed, for one, that she saw him like that. That _anyone_ would see him like that.  What would she think of him now? Did she _tell_ anyone?  His stomach dropped at the thought. Did the rest of the team know how pathetic he really was? Another groan escaped his lips

A tiny part of him was glad someone else knew.  It was a very, very small part of him, but maybe having someone else know a little bit about his apprenticeship would help them _understand_. He knew Bruce was convinced talking with Canary was a waste, but Dick didn’t completely agree. If talking with her could help bridge that gap between him and the team, do something to make up for what he had done to them, then it would be worth it. Especially Artemis.  The memory of her accusing glare came forward in his mind.  He knew his betrayal hit her the hardest.  He couldn’t really blame her if she never forgave him.

Hell, _he_ didn’t even forgive himself. If he allowed himself to think about it, he knew there was anger too, directed at himself for getting into this mess and then being too weak to get out of it.  Guilt for hurting his friends.  And there was sorrow. A deep, resounding mourning in his chest that ached for the things lost in the darkness of Slade’s haunt.  The mix of feelings had his head pounding and a left a nauseous feeling in his gut.  It was definitely better not to think about it.  But, Canary was going to make him string them all out and lay it on the table.

“Master Richard, please don’t keep Master Bruce waiting. He’s adamant about you making this appointment.”  With a heavy breath, Dick closed his laptop and pushed himself up.

“I get it, I’m going.”

In the batcave, Bruce was sitting at the computer, typing away to the squeals of the bats above. Dick came up and stood quietly behind him. There was no use in stopping him until he thought it was a suitable time to stop.

“Are you ready to go to the mountain?” Bruce asked without looking up from the screen.  _Slade always kept his gaze up and to the right to avoid looking him in the eyes.  He didn’t deserve it yet._

“Yes.”

“I’m going to start tonight. I have everything I could find on him and everyone you said he’s been in contact with,” Bruce finally turned his head.  “I’m going to find him, Dick.”

“Ok, Bruce.” Bruce’s eyes narrowed. He knew Dick didn’t believe him.

“Maybe, when all this is over, if you wanted, you could come back on patrol?” Bruce asked tentatively.

In all honesty, he had been avoiding his Robin suit. He didn’t feel like Robin. The upbeat, quick with a comeback, bright persona just felt unnatural lately.  The love for the job, for fighting the good fight, for the city and its people were still here a hundred percent.  But, there was something different now, like an obstacle in his way that he didn’t know how to even begin to figure a way around. He doubted Canary would know the answer, especially when he knew he would only be telling her half the story.  However, a small part of him still hoped.

“I think so.” People still needed help.  No matter what Dick Grayson was going through, the city still needed Robin.  Eventually, he would have to dust himself off and get back to work.  He had seen Bruce do it countless times growing up.  It’s what they did.

Bruce nodded tersely, pulling himself up from the computer. “Good. Let’s go.”

Dick waited in front of the zeta and reviewed his breathing techniques as Bruce punched in the code for Mount Justice. He heard the swish of his cape as the man came to stand behind him, his presence casting a comfortable shadow.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bruce’s hand raise and hover in the air, as if he was going to rest it on his shoulder. Bruce then decided against it and his hand lowered again as the zeta swirled into the stony interior of the mountain.  Dick grasped his forearm as he stepped forward, feeling out of place in civilian clothes.  His mind couldn’t seem to decide if it regretted the loss of Bruce’s touch or not.

As the duo came stepped into the empty atrium of the mountain, Dick felt his heart quicken.  Real nice, Grayson, he mentally chastised himself. Fighting super villains and killer crocs are no problem, but sitting down with a woman in spandex and talking about feelings has got you nervous? _Lame._

“She’s probably in the back,” Batman grunted. Dick could hear the annoyed undertones in his voice. They walked through the backdoors into the inner mountain, coming down the hallway into the living area.

“Where is Black Canary?” Batman asked tersely to the five heads lounging in front of the TV.  Dick froze as five pairs of eyes turned on him.

“She was doing some research in her room, I believe.” Aqualad was the first to answer as he stood. “She said she would be back before your arrival.  Welcome back, by the way, Robin.”

“Rob! Hey, man it’s been a while.” Wally said, coming over with a grin. “How you been?”

“Good. Been busy with school and stuff.”

“Ugh, tell me about it. Dude, one of these days we should totally hang out. Go get burgers and catch a movie or something.”

“Yeah, that’d be cool.” His eyes flicked to M’gann. She gave him a small smile. Beside her, Connor was looking at him like he couldn’t quite decide what expression to make.  Artemis was pointedly staring at her phone.

“Hello, Robin.” M’gann said.

“Hey, M’gann.”  The beat of silence felt tense. “How are you?”

“I’m good. Really.” Wally exchanged a confused glance between Dick and her, but didn’t say anything.

“Robin?” Dick turned at the sound of Canary’s voice. “Batman,” she acknowledged. He grunted in return.  “Why don’t we go into the back? M’gann would you mind coming with us for a moment?”

The rest of the team shot each other confused looks which Dick did his best to ignore. M’gann trailed behind him and Canary, staying just out of arm’s reach. 

“I’ll be in my room if you need me,” Batman said laconically before veering off further into the cavernous tunnel system.

Canary rolled her eyes and led the two into the same therapy room as before. The magazine on the table had been changed, Dick noticed. It was a redhead this time.  Canary took the seat in the middle while Dick took the lone chair on the left and M’gann the couch on the right.

“M’gann,” He started immediately, the guilt gnawing at his insides. “I’m _so_ sorry. I didn’t mean for you to see…that.  I didn’t meant to hurt you, I _swear_.”

“Robin,” She said with a soft smile. “It’s ok. I know you didn’t mean to. I mean, it was…terrifying.” Dick’s stomach clenched. “But, I think I get it.  For that moment, I felt what you felt. I… I’d never experienced anything like that before, but I think get it now… You really didn’t have a choice, did you?”

A shiver passed through him, as Dick turned to stare at the floor. He shook his head. “I hate seeing you guys hurt because of me.  You in pain, Connor mad, Artemis … I don’t deserve for you guys to forgive me. But, I am sorry. I never wanted any of this.”

“Dick… Of course, I forgive you.”

He didn’t deserve it, but he was glad for it anyways. “Thank you.” He swallowed. There was still one thing he had to know. “M’gann, did you tell anyone?” He forced himself to look her in the eyes.

“Only Connor and just vaguely. I said that Slade hurt you badly. He doesn’t quite understand it, but he’s trying. He wants you to come back to the team. We all do.”

“Including Artemis?” M’gann bit her lip.

“Artemis is… conflicted.” Her hands tightened on her skirt. “She is still convinced that you are genuinely sided with Deathstroke. I know that you’re not. But, maybe if you told her about--”

“ _No!_ ” His voice bit the air, and he regretted it immediately. “Please, don’t. I don’t want anyone else to know.” M’gann looked away with a delicate nod.

“Did he do that a lot?” M’gann asked softly.

His eyes cast down to look at his nails. He should cut them soon.

“…Only when I earned it,” he managed. His mind went back to staring at the scars on his back in the bathroom mirror earlier that morning. They were hideous. The swollen, crisscrossing lines looked like failure.

“Robin. Look at me.” Canary said, and his head snapped up automatically.  “You did not deserve anything he did to you.”

He could only shake his head. As much as he wanted it to be true, it just _wasn’t._ It couldn’t be.

“M’gann could you please leave us?” He saw her leave out of the corner of his eye, never turning his head from Canary. His jaw tightened as he tried to keep a composed expression.

“Why would you say that, Dick?”

“I gave in. I stopped fighting. I _quit_.” He took in a trembling breath. “When I became Robin, I said I would never stop fighting for justice. And, not only did I stop, but then I became a _criminal_. I fought my own team… I broke the promise I made to them, Batman, and myself.”

“Dick, Deathstroke forced you to do those things. Even when you were with him, you were still trying to protect your friends.  You didn’t quit, you were still working with what you had. You were trying to survive in a hostile environment, and you can’t dismiss that.”

“I just never thought I would fail like that. Losing comes with the job, I get that. But, giving in… I was raised to not quit on my principles or my people, to not to stop trying, to not _fall_.  But, I did.”

Canary winced in sympathy at his word choice.  “This was not your fault.  What happened was a terrible thing, but it doesn’t have to hold you back.  I know you’ve had to learn that lesson the hard way.  You’re a good person, Dick. That hasn’t changed.”

“No, and I don’t _want_ to be held back. But, _I_ have changed.  I don’t know if it’s permanent but… I don’t know where to go from here.”

“Forward. Maybe not right away, but someday. Take your time coming to peace with this, and please don’t you blame yourself. For the next week, maybe try to watch yourself for negative thoughts like that and correct them. It’s alright if you don’t fully believe it right away.” Dick nodded, mulling over her words in his mind.  “I’ll talk to Bruce about meeting again next week, and I’m going to give you my phone number. If you ever want to talk, please call me – ok?”

“Ok,” he said, putting on a small smile and taking the number she and written down in neat, looping letters.

They both stood up to leave when Canary put a hand on his shoulder. He flinched but didn’t move away. It felt…nice.  Safe. “You’re going to be ok, Dick. You’re not alone. I promise.”

Without thinking, Dick stepped forward and buried his head against her torso, his arms wrapping around the taller woman.  Dinah returned the embrace without hesitation, her cheek rested on the top of his head.

“Thank you.”


	10. A Night For Devils

The streets of Gotham were never silent. The closest it got to silence was a cold, queasy sort of tension that often forewarned danger. It was late (or maybe early?) as Artemis made her way to the apartment she shared with her mom.  Her costume and bow were neatly tucked away in her backpack, and she walked with a brisk pace and a dangerous glint in her eye to warn off ill meaning strangers.  Her lips were poised somewhere between a snarl and a smirk. It was rude, but it was the safest bet for someone walking home alone.   One couldn’t always count on Batman to swoop in and save the day.

Artemis let out a breath of the city smog, letting one hand rub a new bruise on her stomach. The mission that day had been a simple drug ring bust.  Most of their missions since Robin’s disappearance and subsequent reappearance had been fairly straight forward.  Her mistake had been an amateur one. She had let herself get lost in thought. Instead of getting a bullet in the small intestine, she now sported a bruise from Wally’s elbow as he shoved her out of the way at warp speed.  It was embarrassing, really.

But, after what happened earlier that afternoon, she had a lot to think about.  To the backdrop of shouting tenants, peddling drug dealers, and the revving of engines looking for a race, Artemis let her mind wander back to earlier that day.

 

 

Artemis had watched as M’gann came out of the therapy room and return to her spot next to Connor on the couch. M’gann’s hand rested on his knee, looking for comfort.

“So, has he confessed to being a snitch for Deathstroke yet?” She said sarcasticly, although honest curiosity backed her question.

“Artemis! How could you?” M’gann cried looking at her, eyes both sad and accusing at the same time. “For the last time, he is _not_ working for Deathstroke!”

“M’gann, it’s all right. Let’s all just calm down,” Kaldur instructed. “Artemis has also been kept in the dark on the details of Robin’s absence.  Her curiosity is not unwarranted.  However, Artemis,” he said turning to her. She tried to suppress a scowl. It only half worked. “We have all worked with Robin. He is a hero like the rest of us, and he is our friend. He deserves to have a chance.”

“We don’t even know his _name_.” She countered with a glare.  “No one knows what happened with he was with Deathstroke. How are we supposed to trust anything he says?”

“I know what happened,” M’gann said softly. “At least, some of it.”

Artemis looked at her expectantly, but M’gann didn’t continue. “Well?” She prompted.

“I…Robin asked that I not share what happened.”

She threw her arms up. “And, if _that_ doesn’t sound suspicious.”

“No, it’s not like that!” M’gann was almost shouting now. Connor wrapped an arm around her. “He’s embarrassed and ashamed of what happened, something he did. Deathstroke hurt him… really badly. I-I saw some of it on accident. He won’t say because he’s afraid of looking weak.”

Artemis didn’t have a retort to that. Her mind flashed back her own rite of passage and training with her father.  She remembered training until she couldn’t stand and then being made to stand anyway.  Back then, the bruises from training techniques and the bruises from angry fists had melded on her skin into a purple-green mosaic.  However, when she kept her mouth shut about the marks, while some of it had been to preserve her self-image of strength, more of it had been because she knew her father would catch wind of it eventually. That was a risk she had never been willing to take. She knew the consequences of challenging someone she had no hopes of beating.

However, Robin didn’t have that threat looming over him. He had been rescued and was once again back to being cradled in the arms of the Justice League. He probably spent his nights curled between two parents whimpering about how _hard_ his life was.  Because he spent a couple weeks with a mercenary. Well, that’s a _real pity_ , Robin, she thought bitterly. But, she had spent her whole _life_ with them.  If she could dust herself off and hit the ground running again, so should he after being dealt only half the cards she had been playing with the whole time.

“Maybe it’s because he _is_ weak.”  The words fell of her sharp tongue before she intended them to; however, she wasn’t going to take them back.

“No. He’s not.” Wally said firmly. “Robin and I are best friends. And, I know he’s been working this hero-gig harder for longer than anyone else here.  I don’t know what happened when he was away, but whatever it was hit him hard. But, he’s trying anyway! He’s training like crazy, trying to prove himself.  More than anyone else on this team, Artemis, I know he’s doing it, at least in part, for _you._ You’re just too stubborn to see it.”

“ _Me?_ What in the world makes you think that?”

“Because you’re the only one on the team that thinks he’s weak, that he’s a traitor. He’s working his butt off to prove that he’s not.”

That took Artemis back.  He was trying to prove to her? Even after she had called him a traitor to his face and pointedly ignored him time after time, he was still trying to prove that wasn’t the case. Suddenly, the difference between Robin and herself struck her. Robin had survived his time with the mercenaries with his faith in others intact. She hadn’t. 

Artemis leaned back into the chair at the realization.  He wasn’t weak, and she was wrong about him. He had managed to do something she hadn’t and that was … she struggled for the right word and settled on _admirable_.  Maybe he did deserve a second chance. Perhaps not her full trust, but a chance.

“I think we should make a decision, right here and now.” Wally said, taking a rare commanding tone. “Do we want Robin to rejoin the team or not? All in favor?” He raised his arm with confidence as he spoke. M’gann immediately put her hand up. Connor took a glance at M’gann before following suit.

“I trust Robin. I realize there are some things he prefers to keep to himself, but he is our teammate. Perhaps even our leader one day,” Kaldur stated before raising his hand. All eyes turned on Artemis.

She sighed. “All right.  I’ll give him a chance… Just one more.” She put her hand in the air, hoping she wouldn’t regret it.

As the team settled back into their respective positions in the living room, a comfortable air came over the room. For a moment, Artemis allowed herself to think it was feeling of their team coming together again.  Things really hadn’t been the same without Robin. Maybe, this could be a new beginning for the team.

The door to the therapy room opened, and Artemis turned to see Robin coming out with Black Canary.

“Hey, Robin. We were talking,” Wally started, zipping over. While they couldn’t see his eyes behind the dark shades, Artemis saw his frame tense. “And, we wanted to let you know that, whenever you’re ready, we want you to back to the team.”

Robin’s shoulder’s shifted as he turned to look at Artemis, his lips parted in an unspoken question. “Yeah. Me too. Besides, no one else will laugh at Wally’s jokes,” she added with a grin. He smiled back.

“Thank you. I…I’m sorry.” He said softly. He had never been soft-spoken before. Artemis stood up and walked over to him.

“No. I should be the one apologizing.” She stuck her hand out. “How about it, Boy Wonder? Forgive me?” His grin returned more genuine than before.

“Of course.  That’s what teammates do.”

 

Artemis let out a sigh as she arrived at her apartment building. The streetlamp flickered on the corner.  It would probably burn out soon.  It’s wasn’t that she didn’t like Robin.  It was the opposite, he was like a younger brother she never had.  But, agreeing to trust him again after he turned his back on the team and hurt her… that was a lot harder.  It brought up a lot of the jumbled, confusing feelings she had towards Jade that she had shoved to the back of her mind.

Not tonight, she told herself. She was bone tired and looking forward to a warm shower and a few hours of sleep before school tomorrow.  Balancing school with hero-work made for a lot of long nights, but she made a commitment to her mom to try her best in school. Especially now that she was on a scholarship to preppy Gotham Academy.  Sometimes she swore those stuck-up rich kids drained her more than spending hours on patrol.

Her keys jingled in the door of her apartment, number 127. They were a problem for future Artemis. “Mom, I’m home,” she called, tossing her keys on the end table and making her way to her own room.

She could feel the events of the day weighing down her mind, and she took a small amount of pleasure in letting her mind go numb in the comfort of her room. Artemis purposefully kept her gaze off the Alice in Wonderland poster as she flopped onto the bed and began pulling off her shoes.

“Artemis…” Her head snapped up at her mom’s voice.

“Mom?” There was no response. “Mom, are you ok?” She stepped into the hall, her mind snapping back into attention as a sense of danger ran a cold hand down her spine.

“Artemis… Artemis, I’m in the kitchen.”  Her mom’s voice was weak, almost trembling. Artemis bolted.

She rounded the corner of the hall into the small joined area that was the kitchen, dining area, and living room all in one. Her eyes went wide as she saw her mother’s wheelchair on the other end of the room. It was empty.

“Mom?!”  Her feet slipped on the tile as she darted around the other side of the kitchen counter. Sprawled on the floor lay her mother, looking up to Artemis with fear-filled eyes.

“Oh, thank God you’re all right. But, Artemis, you have to get out of here. It’s not safe!”

“What happened? Why is your chair all the way over there? What’s going on?” Artemis asked frantically as her heart started to pound in her chest. There was a wide purple bruise around her mom’s wrist.

“It was him,” Artemis whispered, “wasn’t it?” Her eyes went wide as it hit her.

“Artemis. Leave _now_.”

“I’m not going to leave you. C’mon, I’ll get your chair and we’ll--”

“Isn’t that admirable?”  The deep, coarse voice like the sizzle of cigarettes and the cock of a gun froze Artemis in place. “You always were the more dependable one, Artemis.” Her father’s voice curled around her name like smoke.

“What are you doing here,” her voice was a growl as she turned to glare at the hulking blonde man in the hall. He smirked back at her.

“Welcome home to you too, baby girl.”

“Get out! You don’t have any right to be here.” Lawrence Crock just kept his smirk and took a slow, causal step closer.

“What? A father can’t say hello to his family?”

“You’re no family of mine,” she snarled.

“That’s where you’re wrong, cupcake. They say a bond between parent and child is one of the strongest things there is. Besides, one of my friends recently lost a kid. I thought it would be good to get back in touch.”

“Like you have friends,” she snapped, but her voice was beginning to waver. This was _bad_. She wouldn’t leave her mom alone with him. But, she had nothing to fight with-- her bag was still in the corner of her room where she had thrown it. Running wasn’t an option. Fighting wasn’t an option. She did her best to swallow down her fear.  From the back of her mind, Robin’s words came to her. _Get traught or get dead._ Get traught, Artemis.

“What do you want,” Artemis said, steeling her voice once again. Her mother tightened her grip on her arm.

“Get out of my house, Lawrence,” said her mother beside her, pushing herself up as high as she could from the floor. 

“I just wanted to see my daughter, Paula. No harm in that.”

“There is always harm when you’re involved.” Her mom’s voice was venomous.

The man just scoffed. “That’s just the turn of the cards.” He turned to her once again. “Artemis, I was wondering how you liked your new group of playmates.  I thought, _as your father_ , I’d offer you some parental advice on those kinds of people.”

Artemis drew herself up, her sense of danger ringing loudly.  “Those people are heroes. And, if I remember right, they always seem perfectly capable of kicking your pathetic butt.”

Lawrence’s smirk faltered at that, but only for a moment.  “And you think they won’t turn on you too? Do you think they’ve really accepted you?  Robin may be able to switch sides and come back to open arms, but you’ve never been one of them. It’s in your blood, Artemis. Sooner or later, they’ll smell it.”

“I am not like you.” Her fists tightened. She _wasn’t_. She had proven that, and she wasn’t about to back down now.

“I’m just asking you to reconsider your choice of friends, as your _father_.”  Her glare deepened. Lawrence took another step forward, his hand reaching out to caress her face. She jerked violently to the side. “I don’t think you understand, Artemis.” Suddenly, his fingers whipped out and tangled themselves in her hair.

“These people will corner you.” With a yank, he pulled her away from her mother’s side and into the opposite wall. Her back slammed against it with a thud. “They’ll take the cheap shots.” A fist rocketed into her gut, and she couldn’t stop the cry that came from her lips.

“Lawrence, stop!”

Artemis’s hands twisted around her father’s in a desperate attempt to free her hair, but his grip was iron. He pulled her up like it was nothing, setting her scalp on fire. “Babygirl, they’re going to hit you where it hurts.” His breath was in her face, his cold blue eyes were looking straight into her. Artemis’s mind went blank with terror.

With a grunt, Lawrence slammed her head into the wall.  There was a dull crack, and she saw white. She was vaguely aware of her hair being released as she limply slipped to the ground. Maybe her mother said something, but her ears were ringing too loud to hear. 

Without warning, a boot rammed itself into her chest. She felt her healing rib give away. Her mouth was open but she couldn’t tell if she had screamed. The ringing in her ears sounded like alarms.

“And you know,” Lawrence’s voice broke through the ringing.  He crouched down to whisper his musky breath in her ear. “Right now, the Batman is patrolling the streets of Gotham. But, he isn’t coming for you.  There isn’t help for people like us.”

“So help me God, I will claw your eyes out, Lawrence!” Her mother screamed. Had she been screaming the whole time? Artemis couldn’t tell.

“God hasn’t done anything to help this family, and he isn’t about to start anytime soon,” he said, drawing himself up again.  He cast a glance down at her huddled form on the ground.  Artemis curled her body inwards in a weak attempt to shield against the next blow. “I see you’ve got a lot on your mind, babygirl. I’ll come back some other time, and we can talk this out more then.”

Her arms were trembling as Artemis tried to draw herself up. She couldn’t let him just saunter in, terrorize her family, and leave. Not again. She was older than the little girl from a few years ago. She was _stronger_. But, her arms were still shaking, her head still spinning, and she just couldn’t get a _grip_.

Artemis lifted her head enough to see her father smirk down at her. “I’ll see you real soon, babygirl.” He turned and left with her mother stranded in the kitchen, screaming every Vietnamese curse she could think of, and herself still struggling to stand. The sound of the door being causally closed shut echoed through the small apartment.

“Artemis! Artemis? Artemis say something,” her mother begged, her voice raw.

“Mom,” she moved to push herself up, but the trembling wouldn’t stop.  She settled for half-crawling the few feet around the counter which had shielded her mother’s view from the whole affair.  As Artemis pushed herself to her mother’s side, she heard her take a sharp breath as she took in the damage wrought.

“Artemis…” Her head was pounding, and her body ached with an awful familiarity. She bit her lip to suppress a moan as she felt her mother’s arms fold around her. “I’m so sorry,” her mother whispered.  Artemis didn’t respond, only moved to embrace her tighter.

For the moment, Artemis savored the familiar smell of her mom’s hair and the comforting feeling of being held in a way they hadn’t for a long time. She shifted in the embrace, moving to wipe a tear from her cheek.  However, when she looked up, her eye caught the view of the night sky.  A heavy blanket of clouds covered the city and, emblazoned across them, was the familiar bright yellow bat-signal.  

A symbol of hope and protection for all the citizens of Gotham.

Yeah, right.


	11. A Dangerous Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated P for plant facts (which I did not cross reference so show off at your own risk) and a bad pun.
> 
> But, in all seriousness, thank you for reading, thank you for your comments. They make my day, and if there's anything I can do to improve this fic feel free to let me know. In other news, these chapters are really long. You've probably already figured short and to the point isn't my forte, but I tried to keep it meaty. I've been looking forward to writing these chapters for a while.

The cold fall air filled his lungs, mixing with the adrenaline and filling his veins with a feeling of power.  Perched on the roof of one of the elaborately decorated houses of Gotham’s upper-west end, the Batman surveyed his city. The scent in the air was rotten, even up here among the more fortunate. It was a kind of inescapable scent that followed all Gothamites like bad karma.

He knew it was on him too. He had spent too many years wading through Gotham’s waters – he stunk of it now. A small smirk graced his lips.  Unlike most other Gothamites, however, he had learned how to _use_ it. When that smell of danger, corruption, and filth hit, there was no stopping him.  Like a shark catching a hint of blood, it only made his frenzy stronger.

With a push of his methodically toned muscles, Batman glided off the roof and onto the balcony of one Diane Rothschild.  She had inherited an automobile factory from her father, which had recently fallen on hard times. Her lifestyle, however, has never once been anything less than excessive despite this.  He slid a small lock pick from the finger of one of his gloves and, in a moment, had picked the lock and slipped inside.

He stood in a bedroom with an extravagant four-post bed in the middle decorated with a number of embroidered pillows. From the vanity on the opposite wall, multiple necklaces weighted with gemstones had been draped over the top with carelessness.  The light reflected off the jewels, causing them to sparkle. Batman’s gaze narrowed.  It always seemed to go that those with the dirtiest hands put up the most immaculate pretenses.

“Finally. I’ll be so glad when he learns to sleep like the rest of us,” came Diane’s Rothschild’s voice as she entered the room, closing the white double doors behind her. She was a short, heavier set woman with cropped blonde hair. Her air was that of a cutthroat business woman who had become comfortable sitting in the lap of luxury.

“That’s also the age when they start coming to you instead.”

Diane whipped around to face him, her mouth falling open in a silent scream.  If Robin had been there, he would have been chuckling at how out of place Batman looked in her bedroom among the frills and vanities. Unfortunately, the woman didn’t share his sense of humor.

“B-B-Batman!”

“I have some questions for you, Diane.  I know you’ve been in contact with a certain mercenary recently.”  Her eyes widened.

“This… is about Deathstroke?” She visibly relaxed at that. In a single swift movement, he was towering over her.

“ _Don’t_ think this means I don’t know about your illegal weapons trade. You’ve profited off those sales for years, growing the business your late father didn’t know how to run. I know _all_ about it.”

She swallowed and seemed to shrink before him. They all did when they realized they were faced with a force who was unafraid to rip away the curtain of civility and law.  “What do you want?” she choked out.

“Your weapons trade lives to sit in its own swill for another day. In exchange, I want everything you have on Deathstroke the Terminator. What did you hire him for?”

Her eyes narrowed as she tried to compose herself. He knew she wasn’t a woman used to taking orders.  “I was using him as a go between to negotiate with Poison Ivy.”

“What did you want from Ivy?” he growled.  She licked her lips and avoided her gaze. With a flick of his hand, the vanity mirror shattered as a batarang crashed against it. “I _also_ know you have a kid in the next room. Most courts usually don’t think arms dealers make for good care takers.”

“Y-you wouldn’t…” her voice trembled. His glare deepened.

“Tell me what you wanted from Ivy.”

She closed her eyes for a moment and nodded. “Alright, alright.  I wanted to buy her poison in bulk for… negotiations.  Ivy was mad about my factory and the pollution it was causing.  Deathstroke worked out a deal, so as I worked on enforcing more eco-friendly changes in the factory he used Ivy’s poison to… um… reinforce some business principles.”

A growl escaped his throat. She was just like the rest of the scum he fought in the alleys, lowlifes who thought they had a right to exercise power and rules over people they deemed beneath them.  Her breathing hitched with sheer terror.

“How did you contact Deathstroke?”  A primal need to smash her head against the wall passed through him, but he suppressed it. He still needed her conscious.

“My father had a business card of his I used.  We met at the park.  Then, he gave me a cellphone to call him and when we were done he took it back. It’s all probably destroyed now. We only talked a few times.  He did what I asked, took the money, and I’ve never seen or heard from him since, I _swear_.”

“Was he alone when you met him?” He could see her wracking her brain, desperate to appease the hulking demon staring her down.

“Yes. Wait, no. I mean, no,” she was sweating now, but so far she had told the truth. Her welfare was on the line, after all.  “He talked to me alone, but there was a boy he met up with as he left. The kid had been off on the swings. He sat really still, looked kind of old for the playground, but I didn’t think anything of it.  But, when Deathstroke walked off the kid joined him.” 

“What did he look like?”

“Uh, h-he was older. White hair, eye-patch--”

“Not Deathstroke, the _boy_!”

“I don’t know! He had black hair… um, I-I really don’t remember!”

“Yes, you do! Remember, Diane!”

“He was…s-shorter. M-maybe t-thirteen or f-fourteen? He, um… he walked with a limp! I remember that!”

His fist shot out and crashed into the wall inches from her head. Diane screamed. “I don’t know! I don’t know!” She sobbed, sinking into a huddled couch on the floor. “Please, I d-don’t know.” Batman took a step backwards, slipping back to the balcony. She was useless to him now. He doubted she actually knew anything else.

“I suggest you get some sleep, Ms. Rothschild. You’re going to have a long day tomorrow.”

“W-what?”

“You’ll be getting served for six counts of pre-meditated murder.”

“N-no! No, you said my business would be safe!” She scrambled to stand, the tears having stained her eyes red.

“I lied.”

“No! You don’t _understand._ The weapons trade is the only thing keeping me afloat, it’s all I have! I-I don’t have anyone else. My boyfriend walked out on me for some… some two timing _whore_ , and I’m left with his baby. But, if you do this, you _know_ they’ll take him away! You _know_ what the orphanages are like! Please, I have a _son_ I’m just trying to keep safe.”

“So did the people you send Deathstroke after.  So did everyone who lost a kid because of your guns.”

He didn’t wait to hear her reply, instead leaping gracefully from the balcony, and leaving her alone once again.

The wind whipped around him as his grappling line shot out and hooked around the rooftop ledges, each tug pulling him deeper into the city.  After only a few minor stops along the way (two thefts, one attempted rape, and one drunk shouting about how Icicle Senior’s pick up line should be asking women if they wanted to “blow this popsicle stand” along with some equally terrible puns before almost stumbling into traffic) he arrived at the abandoned aviary.

The large glass dome atop the building had a large opening in the top like a cracked egg which had been there for years. The vines that spilled out of it, however, were new. With the stealth of a trained professional, Batman dropped through the hole, pulled himself into a roll, and landed silently. As he did, he made sure to avoid stepping on one of the many roots that covered the floor and ran up the walls. The whole of the aviary had been transformed into a greenhouse decorated from bottom to top with all kinds of thriving plant life.  He even spotted a few dormant man-eating-sized _dionaea muscipula --_ a venus fly trap with Ivy’s personal spin.  One of the stranger side effects of his night job, was that he had learned the most bizarre facts about plants.

Suddenly, a vine snapped to life and snatched his ankle, and yanked him into the canopy until he was dangling over the open jaws of the now very awake venus fly trap.  With great restraint, Batman held back an exasperated sigh. Ivy loved her big entrances.

“You know, plants can recognize their family members. They know when there is a stranger in their midst,” Poison Ivy called from the ground, sauntering forward. The vines around her body clung to her curves and mixed with her wild red hair.

“There is an estimated four hundred thousand species of plants, and you feel the need to contribute with larger, man-eating versions of ones sold for discount at hardware stores.”

“Technically my children are a new species, although they refuse to acknowledge it. Perhaps because they never seem to live long outside of my greenhouses,” she countered, raising her eyebrows accusingly. “Did you know there are over eighty thousand species of edible plants, yet ninety percent of our diet comes from a mere thirty different plants?”

“There are also approximately seventy thousand species used for medicine, with half of prescriptions containing some sort of plant.”

“Yet, only one percent of the rainforest has been studied for plants with medical potential.”

“I’m not here to talk about saving the rainforest, Ivy.” He twisted his body to swing the vine forward. As it swung back, he sliced the vine around his ankle with a batarang and landed catlike on the ground. Ivy crossed her arms over her chest with an unimpressed huff.

“Pity. Just when I was thinking you cared enough to do your research.”

“I _always_ do my research,” he said stepping forward but stopping well out of arm’s length. She wasn’t serious about fighting him now, and he wanted to keep it that way.  “I’ve heard you’ve been in contact with Deathstroke.”

“Sorry, he’s not my type.”

“I’m talking about the deal he negotiated between you and Rothschild,” his teeth grit around the words.

“You’re really not in the mood tonight, are you?” She smirked, “Why should I tell you?”

“Because you don’t want to fight me tonight, Ivy.” Danger slipped off his tongue, she had fought him enough times to sense his foul mood.

“True, I don’t. But, there’s still not anything for me in giving up a very… picky client.  I’m not so foolish to cross someone like Deathstroke.”

“Ivy, so help me, you can tell me what I want to know or I will _burn_ this place to the ground and beat the answers I want out of you.”  Her eyes widened at that.

“I won’t cross Deathstroke. Whatever your worst is, it’s still significantly preferred to _his_.” She shifted her stance and curled her fists, preparing for a fight.  “It’s a shame your little sidekick hasn’t been around lately. He’s always so cute and--” Ivy cut herself off, and her mouth opened.  The gears turned and finally clicked in her head.

“This is about him isn’t it? That kid who was with Deathstroke… was that…?”  He didn’t say anything, but could feel his jaw tighten at the thought of his ward running around Gotham as Deathstroke’s apprentice.  “Oh my god, it was. How did I not see it? I thought it was strange someone like him would have a sidekick, but I never thought it would be, well, _your_ sidekick.”

Batman’s knuckles tightened to where they should have start hurting, but he didn’t feel a thing. “Are you going to tell me what I want or are we doing this the hard way?”

She sighed, letting her hands unfurl. “No. No, goddamn it. I’ll tell you.”  Her hands clasped her forearms in an attempt to relax herself. “I agreed to supply Rothschild with one of my plant’s toxins in bulk in exchange for a policy change at her factory.  There wasn’t much to the deal. Deathstroke approached me with Robin in tow. He was dressed in Deathstroke’s colors, black and orange with these really thick metal plates around his neck and wrists. I’ll be honest Bats, the kid looked like crap.”

“What do you remember,” Batman managed around the tension in his jaw. The memory of the night he rescued Dick burned in the front of his mind and fueled his fury.  Slade was going to _pay_.

She shook her head. “He looked banged up, tired. He didn’t say anything the whole time, just stuck to Deathstroke’s side who did all the talking. I tried to ask him his name, but Deathstroke just shot the kid a look and then answered for him. Said his name was Renegade.”

“Do you know where Deathstroke was working out of? Other clients? Anything I can use to find him?”

“I don’t know where he would be, if that’s what you’re asking. He always showed up and gave only just enough information.” She paused, “However, if I had to guess, I would suggest you look on the eastern outskirts of the city.  That’s the direction they headed when they left, and I would assume Deathstroke to be someone to keep out of the main part of the city….  Why don’t you ask Robin?”

Batman turned on his heel at the mention of his name. The conversation was over.

“Is he ok? Is he still with Deathstroke?”

He paused, stopping but not turning his head. “No.”

“No to _what_? Which is it?”  With a taught release of air, he started walking again.

“Hey, if anyone asks, you got me with Wonder Tits’ truth lasso or something, ok?”

His grappling hook shot up and snagged the opening of the aviary. Before he zipped up, he gave a curt nod.

“God, you’re such an asshole, Batman,” she hissed.  “Hey, for what it’s worth… I’m sorry,” she called up, not sure if he heard.

 

Batman did, in fact, hear her. He just didn’t _care_.  Ivy was another dead end. With every passing day, Slade had more time to hide himself away and build up his defenses. Bruce was wasting time.  But, he had one more person to visit before the night was up in…he glanced at the sky…only a couple hours. He really needed to put a bat-watch in the next suit.

His last stop was in the heart of Gotham, in one of the nicer apartment blocks.  On the balcony was his target, Colin Bosworth, leaning against the rail and smoking a cigarette. He was a tall, average looking man in his late thirties, but the bags under his eyes made him look much older. From the roof, Batman threw a specially designed cord down to wrap around his outstretched wrist and yank him up. Colin let out a cry from surprise and the sudden dislocation of his wrist.  Then, he saw who had kidnapped him.

“Batman! Oh thank god,” Well, that was a first for the night. “I need your help, I need _protection_.”

“From who?”

Colin gulped, “Deathstroke the Terminator,” his words barely a whisper even though they were alone on a rooftop.  This was it, Batman could feel it.

“Tell me _everything_.”

“About three months ago, I started noticing things about Diane Rothschild at various galas we had both been invited too. I knew her factory was floundering, but here she was still looking just fine. I looked into it, and came to find out she was running a whole weapons trade under the table.  So, I contacted her, said I wanted in. But, Batman, I didn’t _know_.”

“Didn’t know _what_?”

“She’s a _witch_. The way she runs things… it was with an iron fist, it was ruthless. I just wanted the quick cash.  I said I wanted out but, I had already staked a claim. She… she didn’t like that.  Deathstroke told me she didn’t care what he did to me as long as I would comply.  God, I wish he had done something to me. Instead, that bastard took my _daughter_!”  Tears started to flow from the man’s eyes.

“Why didn’t you help me get my daughter back? Where were you?  It was all over the papers, you _had_ to know. So… _why_?”

Batman broke his gaze with the crying father. He had been asked this question too many times to count.  “I’m sorry.” 

“No!” An accusing finger pointed at him, “That’s not good enough!  More than the fact that now I have to dirty myself shaking hands with people like Rothschild, my daughter Eileen is terrified. She spent three days in whatever hellhole of a hideout he had. She tells me about the _screams_ she heard. She claims there were ghosts there that she heard cry and sing in tongues and even try to talk to her.  Deathstroke didn’t physically hurt her, but she’s only seven and she’s traumatized, she’s so scared, and I don’t know _how_ to help her when even _Batman_ can’t do anything about it.”

“I’m working on tracking down Deathstroke now. But, I need all the information I can get. I want to talk to your daughter.”

“ _What_? Absolutely not!  How do you think a traumatized child is going to react to meeting a hulking man in a bat-suit?” Bruce thought of Dick cocooning himself in Batman’s cape after a particularly difficult patrol, rubbing his cheek on the fabric like a kitten.

“She could have vital information on locating Deathstroke. I need to know what she knows.”  Colin let out a sigh.

“Maybe…I could talk to her.  Come back in a few nights.  And don’t break my damn wrist when you do. We do have a _door_.”

“It’s only dislocated. I can fix it in a second.”

“ _No_. Thanks. Can you just… help me get back down?”  Batman nodded, looping an arm around the man’s waist and in a graceful jump landed on his balcony in a way that allowed him to absorb the impact of the jump.

“How do you _do_ that?”

“A lot of training.”

“When I was younger, I thought you were a superhero.”

“I’m not.”

“I know.”  Colin took a step back, looking him over with critical eyes. “Can you promise me that you’ll find him? That you won’t let us down again?”

Batman paused. He thought back to his promise to Dick, when he swore he would track Slade down and Dick had doubted him.  He had failed Dick, and now he had failed Bosworth. He couldn’t lose to Slade anymore.

“Yes. I can.” Colin nodded.

“Thank you.  You know, Eileen still believes in you. I thought I’d let you know.”

“Do you?”

“I… are you a father?” Batman didn’t respond, but continued to stare blankly ahead. “Well, maybe you know anyways. I believe in the demons so she doesn’t have to.  But, I’m grateful for what you do.  It makes a difference.”

“Dad?” A young girl’s voice came from inside the house. Colin turned towards the sound.

“Just a minute, Eileen. I’m…” when he looked back to the balcony, Batman was gone. “I’m coming in sweetheart. It’s all right, darling. I’m here,” he murmured as he went inside.

 

When Batman finally made it back to the Wayne manor, changed out of his costume, and made it upstairs to the kitchen it was nearing five am.  Alfred was up and already busy cleaning dishes.

“Welcome home, Master Bruce.”

“Morning, Alfred. Is Dick up?”

The butler sighed, “I’m afraid so. He just finished in the gym a little while ago. He should be down soon.”

“Is he still not sleeping?”

“No, he’s not.  I’m thinking of adding sleep aids to his food.”

“I was thinking we could spend some time together today. Maybe pick him up after school and take him out for ice cream.”

Alfred hummed in response.  “That is a rare occurrence. Unfortunately, he is spending the day with Ms. Gordon.”

“When did that happen?”

“Yesterday. You were preoccupied with your… project, I don’t believe he had an opportunity to tell you.” The old man looked up from his work, “Did something happen last night?”

“Just another night in the Gotham.”

 

 

The label in the tablet’s top-left corner read ‘Camera Four.’

“Just another night in Gotham,” the tired looking man said as he turned and left the kitchen.  He had spent the whole night out, but Slade knew he was no closer to his goal then when he started.

Hitting a button on the side, the screen shifted through two empty rooms until the label settled on ‘Camera Seven.’  This time the tablet displayed a top down view of a young man in his bedroom, standing in front of a full length mirror.  Richard’s shirt was off, and he had twisted his torso in an unnatural looking way to examine his back in the mirror. He had stopped wearing the bandages a few days ago, and now staring at the long scars on his flayed skin had become a morning routine.

This was especially interesting given the fact Slade knew the boy hated the way his skin looked. Perhaps the boy was more of a masochist then he let on. Personally, he loved the way the raised scars looked on his apprentice’s tan and toned skin. He loved that he had been the one to put them there. 

His eyes were trained on Richard and his beautiful scars as the boy finally tore his eyes away from the mirror and untwisted his spine.  Slade had seen firsthand how flexible he could be, yet it still impressed him. The way he could move looked like it would be painful for anyone else, but, for Richard, it was simply natural. 

As the boy finished getting dressed, Slade let his eyes wander around the room he had already thoroughly analyzed.  In an instant, he noticed the small, subtle change. There was a slip of paper strewn on his dresser, zooming in revealed it to be a pass for a free game at Marquee Bowling Lanes. Slade’s eyes narrowed. So, Richard was going to make good on his promise to take out the Commissioner’s daughter. 

If there was one thing his lifestyle had taught him, it was that relationships were a liability, especially romantic ones.  He would have to keep an eye on this girl.   Richard was becoming far too comfortable in his old life.  Slade was somewhat disappointed the boy hadn’t began to suspect the camera. He _thought_ he had taught the boy that there was no leaving the apprenticeship.  Yet, Richard went through his day as if nothing had changed.  He was losing the mercenary skills Slade had worked so hard to teach him. That just wouldn’t do.

Slade togged through his various other cameras until he reached a view of the Crock apartment kitchen.  He had caught Artemis and Paula Crock in the middle of an embrace.  Artemis was getting ready for a jog before school.  Neither had slept that night.  Paula’s hand gently brushed the back of her daughter’s head with a look of sympathy when Artemis winced.

“Are you going to be alright, Artemis?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about me, mom. You said the locksmith was going to come this afternoon?”

“Yes, I’m going to change the front door to something better.”

“…Can we afford it?”

“Artemis, don’t ask that.  We always come through.”

“It won’t stop him. You should save the money.”

“He’s not getting in here again.”  Artemis let out a soft sigh.

“Ok, mom. Call me if anything happens, alright?” The two embraced once more before Artemis left the apartment. It was the same she always left, as if nothing had changed.

Artemis was rattled, that much was obvious, but she was still going forward on pure moxie.  It was enough to leave her standing but only barely.  Lawrence had done his job well.  As Slade watched the girl go, he wondered if it would be enough to use her to infiltrate the Young Justice base.  Perhaps she just needed additional incentive.

Slade toggled to the home screen and opened one of the documents stored behind a two different passwords. He scrolled through it and smiled.  He may have lost his pictures when Richard had tricked him, but he still had leverage.  Yes, he thought as he scanned the file, this would be perfect for Artemis.  A plan unfolded itself in his mind, and Slade saw his success at the end of the road. He was, after all, the best.


	12. Something to Celebrate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally going to be two parts, but I couldn't find a clean break. So, extra long chapter it was.
> 
> Additionally, this chapter is what made me decide to change the rating to mature. It's not intimately graphic, but it's explicit enough and tense. I realize not everyone is comfortable reading this kind of material, so here's my fair warning for the content in this chapter.

“I don’t know how you do it, Dick. You’re gone for two months, then you show up one day and you’re all caught up the next day. Then, the day after that, you’re back to the top of the class,” Barbara said with a shake of her head as the pair walked to their favorite ice cream shop on the way to the bowling alley.

Dick had been looking forward to this, a chance to get out of the manor that wasn’t going to the mountain. Just the two of them.  He wanted to tell Barbara how much he had missed her, but, with his cover story, he couldn’t think of a way to make it sound natural. Like he hadn’t spent the time away terrified he would never see his friends and family ever again.

“I’ve had more free time than usual,” he said with a shrug.  “It gives me some extra study time.” Truthfully, memorization had been one of the skills Slade had drilled into him. He had spent hours training to memorize and retain information after only a glance. Slade had told him making a physical copy of any kind of information was a risk, so a mercenary should be able to keep all the information they could in their mind.  A younger version of himself would have laughed at the irony. But, he didn’t find it as funny now. 

Slade had given him tips and tricks even Batman hadn’t known.  Memorization, strategy, fighting techniques, endurance, strength training, and weaponry among others.  He hadn’t wanted to learn any of it.  Slade had taught him far more about the art of the kill then he ever wanted to know. What terrified him now was that he still _remembered_.  He remembered everything from his time with Slade. But, he couldn’t afford to think about that now.

Forward, Canary had said. Focus on the now. With a push, he shoved the negative thoughts to the back of his mind – a trick he was getting good at.   On the bright side, it made school a breeze.

“I dunno, it’s almost scary how you can do that,” Barbara said casually as they entered the shop with a ding of the bell. A shudder passed through him.  You’re telling me, he thought.

Dick didn’t respond, stepping up to the counter instead. “Can I get a bowl of strawberry and a …” he glanced at Babs, “cone of cookie dough?”

“Maybe I wanted to pay for _you_.”

Dick laughed, “Then you’ll have to be faster next time.”

They moved off to the side to wait, and Dick stiffened as he felt Barbara’s eyes bore into him. “Have you been sleeping enough? You look like you have bags under your eyes. I mean, I know that’s kind of your norm, but it seems worse than usual.” Of course she had noticed.

He tried to shrug it off, “I think it’s just the time zone change.  I just need a few more days.”  Her brows furrowed like she didn’t completely buy it. Please drop it, please, _please_ just drop it, he begged silently.

“Order number thirty seven?” Saved by the cow bell.

“That’s us,” he said, stepping up quickly.

They found a booth by the window, and as soon as they sat down Barbara’s eyes were on him again.

“American ice cream not as good as the Italian stuff? You usually get, like, half a carton.” He looked down at the pink lump in his bowl.  Usually, he could eat four portions without blinking, but he just hadn’t had an appetite for sweets lately. He hadn’t had much of an appetite at all, actually. Eating had become more of a mechanical thing; he ate what was put in front of him.

“Nah, I just had a big lunch,” he said putting a spoonful in his mouth to emphasize his point. “What have you been up to?”

“You know, same old.  School and gymnastics take up most of my day. My computer science classes have been getting a lot harder. Oh, I have a gymnastics meet coming up.”

“Cool, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you compete, I’d love to go to one sometime.”

“Yeah, I’ll can shoot you the dates later.  But, my life has been pretty boring. I wanna hear about you.”

“There’s really not much to hear about…”

“You spent two months in _Italy_ , what’s not to talk about?  How was it?”  His stomach turned, and he set the spoon down. Whatever hint of an appetite he had before was gone now.

“It was fine. Nice. I didn’t leave the house much, honestly.” She sighed.

“Dick, why didn’t you tell me before you left?”

“I told you already, it was just really sudden…” He didn’t like where this was going. His fingers laced together tightly.

“Too sudden to send a text?”

“I…I’m sorry.” He didn’t have an excuse, and it felt terrible. Lying to her was like a punch in the gut, but telling the truth just wasn’t an option.

“Look, if you don’t want to tell me… its fine. But, you’ve been acting differently since you’ve been back. I don’t know what it is, but something’s changed.”

“I’m fine,” Dick said automatically. “I’m just getting back in the swing of things.” The look on Barbara’s face said she wanted to argue but was holding herself back.

“I’m worried about you.”  He turned his head to look out the window in an attempt to escape her gaze.

“I’m _fine_.”

Barbara opened her mouth for a retort, when she was cut off by a voice calling from across the shop.

“Barbara! Hey, Barbara!”  A skinny blonde girl waved as she came to their table, her designer skirt swishing as she walked and her heels clicking on the tile.  Two girls followed behind her, looking unsettlingly similar to each other.

“Rebecca, hey!” Barbara responded, her face switching from concern to a friendly smile.  Rebecca Boles was the daughter of one of Gotham’s elite; her father was a successful banker and her mother a top lawyer.  According to Bruce, both were guilty of accepting some less-than-pristine offers. 

“Hey! Dick, how are you? Omg, I heard about your trip to Italy. That’s so fetch. Ugh, I wish I could travel more, don’t you?”

Dick had to smile that that. The Gotham elites always did like to forget that he had grown up in a traveling circus -- until it was convenient, anyways.  Barbara caught his gaze and returned a knowing smirk.  “Yeah, traveling is nice.”

“ _So_ true,” Rebecca said. “Anyways, I saw you two over here, and, like, what a coincidence.  _I_ am throwing a party tonight; I thought I’d ask if you two wanted to come.”

Barbara turned to ask Dick silently with her eyes. _No way_ , was his first thought, his fingers brushing the ticket in his pocket. He wanted to go bowling, just the two of them. However, he could see it in her eyes. Rebecca was an all-star girl with the money and the looks to boot.  Barbara would never admit it, but he knew there were times she was jealous of people like Rebecca. Being the daughter of the Commissioner in a school full of the excessively wealthy could be hard at times. It wasn’t so much Rebecca’s personality that Barbara was fond of, but the excitement of her lavish lifestyle with riches, attention, and popularity.  He knew she wanted to go.

“Sounds like fun,” he said, looking back at Babs with a smile.

“Awesome! We were actually going to head over and finish setting up after this, want to join?”

“Sure! I mean,” Barbara glanced at him to double check. He nodded. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

“Dick, I don’t think you’ve ever been to one of my parties before, have you?”

“Uh, no I haven’t.”  Spending his nights with Batman hadn’t left much time for parties.

“ _Well_ , get ready to have a good time tonight.”

 

One of Rebecca’s friends drove them in a low riding sports car to the upper west end of Gotham with the nice houses. The girls spend the drive twittering about some movie he had never heard of. Every once in a while, Barbara would shoot him a questioning look, and he would smile back before she went back to talking.  The ticket to the bowling alley itched in his pocket.   

Once at the Bole’s house, Rebecca led them through but not before pointing out the crystal chandelier in the entryway. It was no manor, but their wealth was obvious from the refined modern design of the décor to the way everything looked as if polished to a shine.  The short tour took them to a basement made for parties. There was a forty-five inch flat screen with multiple game systems hooked up across from a plush couch, and a small bar with party food already set out.  Two tables, one for foosball and one for pool, were placed next to an actual Pac-Man machine.  In the back, was a door left ajar to show a spare bedroom.  Signed movie posters covered every wall.

“Barbara, how about you come upstairs with us, and we can do your make up?”

“My makeup?”  He suppressed a smirk. Barbara had told him on multiple accounts she didn’t like wasting her time spending hours putting on makeup.  “Yeah, sounds like fun!” Or, maybe she didn’t dislike it as much as she had let on.  “Oh, Dick do you…?” She started awkwardly.

“I’ll just stay here, it’s cool.” He could tell from Rebecca’s sideways glance he wasn’t wanted in her room. Plus, he had no desire to listen to the girls go on about things he couldn’t relate to.

“Ok, we’ll be back in a second.”

“Alright,” he muttered taking a seat on the couch. _That_ was a lie if he ever heard one. 

He reached into his pocket to play a game on his phone when he heard the basement door click shut.  He _froze_.  His phone slipped from his hand and cracked on the hardwood floor.

_His back hit the ground where Slade had thrown him by the scruff of his neck into the cramped room._

_"You need to learn a lesson in respecting the time of your betters.” Slade said, glaring down at him with his single cold blue eye. The door clicked shut, and he was alone. The single fluorescent light flicked on._

_“Slade! Let me out!”  When no response came, he slammed his fists against the door. “You can’t keep me in here!” Silence._

_What was this? Some time-out room?  As if he was some insolent child. Only a short while ago he had woken up in Slade’s compound, dressed not in the jeans and a sweatshirt he had been kidnapped in, but in a completely different uniform (how that happened he refused to think about).  He had started by to slinging sharp retorts, but it escalated to exchanging blows when he heard Slade’s ridiculous proposal to become his apprentice.  All of a sudden, the man had grabbed him by the neck and thrown him in this tiny, box-like room._

_“Dammit, Slade! Come back here!”_

_The door had no give. There was no handle and only a thin seem to hint that there was a door there at all.  “Slade!” He screamed louder. He knew the man had to be listening to him._

_He took a breath to try again when a bolt of electricity shot through his system.  This time he screamed in pain. It only lasted a second, but it left him winded.  Dick slumped against the wall. He refused to fall to his knees just yet._

_He would in a few hours more, after a few more electrically charged scoldings for screaming.  But, for now, that moment was the first time Dick thought he might really be stuck here._

No.  No, he _wasn’t_ there anymore. Forward, focus on going _forward_ , Grayson, he reminded himself.  He pushed himself up and picked up his cracked phone.  The plush of the couch suddenly felt suffocating.   Dick headed to the food laid out, maybe he just needed to eat something.  He couldn’t remember if he had eaten anything besides the ice cream earlier.

From the stairwell, he heard the door click open, and Dick went rigid again.  It’s just Babs and the other girls, he hold himself. Then, he heard the footsteps, and they were _heavy_.  _Heavy enough to be steel toed boots, coming slowly forward to deliver the final blow for failing.  He always failed_. No, it couldn’t be him. It _couldn’t_.

“Hello?” It was a man’s voice, but it was far too gentle to be Slade, he realized. Dick forced himself to swallow his fear. It _wasn’t_ him.

“Oh, hello,” Mr. Boles said with a friendly smile as he came into the basement and walked up to Dick. “I was just looking for Rebecca, is she here?”

He licked his lips and squared his shoulders, forcing his voice to be steady, “They’re upstairs.”

“Ah, girl things I see,” the man gave a laugh and clasped a hand on Dick’s shoulder.  Instantly, he flinched and jerked backwards.

“Uh…sorry,” Dick said, trying to recover. “I, um, sprained it a little while ago.”

“Oh, my bad,” Mr. Boles said looking a little flustered. “Say, you look familiar. Are you Becca’s boyfriend? I want to say Joshua…?”

“No, actually this is the first time I’ve been here. I’m just a friend. Richard. Nice to meet you.” he said forcing himself to put his hand out as Bruce had taught him.

The man clasped his hand, and this time Dick was able to repress his repulsion at the skin contact.  “Richard…” The man repeated, studying his face and trying to place it. Then, the light bulb went off, and his eyes widened. “Richard _Wayne_ , right! Well, it’s an honor to have you in our humble home! I think we met once at one of your father’s galas. Those are always so nice; he really is a man of impeccable taste.”

“Grayson.”

“What?”

“My name is Richard _Grayson_ ,” he said a little louder.  People like him, always trying to schmooze him to get on Bruce’s good side, they never bothered to learn his name. Or pay attention enough to know Bruce had never adopted him.

Mr. Boles brows furrowed in confusion. “Oh, right. Of course, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, although it was clear he had no idea why his name was different than Bruce’s.  The man swallowed nervously, and Dick could see him wondering if he had just crossed Bruce Wayne. “Well, I’m going to go check on the girls. Good to meet you.” He nodded curtly before going back upstairs. Dick steeled himself so not to flinch when the door shut again.

He glanced down to his phone. Maybe he should call Canary. Dick immediately dismissed the thought. He was fine, he could handle this.

A few minutes later, Barbara came down with Rebecca, the twins, and two more guests. Barbara had changed into one of Rebecca’s tops which accented her curves. Her eyes were lined and there was a slight sparkle to them.  She walked over to him with a smile.

“You look nice,” he commented.

“ _Pssh_ , they wouldn’t let me leave until I tried on, like, fifty different shirts. Rebecca has enough clothes to fill a warehouse,” Barbara said with a wave of her hand, but her cheeks colored themselves anyway.

“Hey, Barbara,” Rebecca called, “Have you meet Cassandra? You two _have_ to meet.”

“Uh,” she looked at him with an apologetic wince.

“Go on, it’s fine. You don’t need my permission.” She smiled.

“Of course I don’t, Grayson. I’ll be right back.”

Right back turned out to be close to an hour. In the meantime, people filled into the party until the basement started to get crowded.  The music began to play as people relaxed, mixing with the laughter and din of the party.  Most stopped to say hi to him -- everyone knew of him-- and he chatted with a few, but the people who came were part of Rebecca’s social circle, not his.  They mostly talked about school since he was beginning to suspect that might be the only thing they had in common. 

Barbara tried to talk to him on a couple occasions, but kept getting pulled back to Rebecca’s side not long after. Even at the spot by the corner of the room he had landed in, nursing a growing headache, Dick could tell Barbara was practically glowing from the attention.

“Hey, stranger.” It look Dick a moment to realize someone was talking to him.  He looked up to see Westley coming forward with a solo cup in hand. “I didn’t think I’d find you here.”

“I don’t usually come to these things.  I’m here with Barbara,” he returned, flashing a smile.

Westley looked around at the distinct lack of Barbara anywhere near him. “Gotchya.  Yeah, this isn’t really my thing either.  I was with Jordan Palmer when he heard some girl he likes, Jillian Connors, was going to be here.”

“And, here you are.” Westley clucked his tongue and nodded.

“I thought we were going to spend the night playing the new Megadroid Galactic, but clearly that didn’t happen.”

“Babs and I were going to go bowling,” Dick said sympathetically.

The two fell into conversation naturally.  Dick learned Westley claimed to be undefeated at Megadroid, which contradicted the fact that _he_ was the clear Megadroid champion. 

“You know, I have all the Megadroid games at my place. You should come over sometime,” Dick offered. “Unless, of course, you’re afraid of getting your butt handed to you.” Westley returned his playful smirk.

“ _Oh_ , I’ll make you eat those words, Dick Grayson.”

“Ok, everyone!” Rebecca called over the party and the music. “Everyone come over, we’re going to play a game.” Westley and Dick exchanged a mutual shrug and shuffled over.  Dick caught Barbara’s eye as she smiled at him from her spot next to Rebecca, holding two upside down fedoras stuffed with slips of paper.  “We’re going to play seven minutes of heaven!”

A series of hollers and whistles pass through the crowd. _This_ was what teenagers did at parties?  Sorry Babs, he thought, but spending his nights in spandex beat listening to awkward teenagers any day.

“Ok, ok, the first girl is….” Rebecca said dramatically pulling a slip of paper, “Jillian!” A squeal came from what Dick presumed to be Jillian’s friends. “And… Westley Kramer!” Beside him, Dick saw Westley stiffen.

“C’mon, guys,” Westley protested weakly.  “I’m not really… I-How about Jordan goes instead?”

“That’s not how it works,” Rebecca said slyly. Then, Jordan leaned over and whispered in her ear in a voice only someone with Bat-training could have heard.

“He’s _gay_.”  Westley paled as he guessed what Jordan must have said.

“Well,” Rebecca said, “I suppose this once we can make an exception. Start the timer!” The crowded huddled Jordan and Jillian into the bedroom in the back, Jordan grinning ear to ear.

“It’s a stupid game,” Dick said, trying to be sympathetic.

“Yeah,” Westley said with a nervous rub of his neck before changing the subject. “So, are you and Barbara dating?” Westley asked after a while.

“What? No way, I mean we’ve known each other forever. We’re just, no we’re--” Dick cut himself off when he realized he was rambling, feeling his cheeks flush.  A few months ago, he had been stifling a growing crush on his childhood friend. But, he had ended up deciding it was better for their friendship if they just continued the way they were.  Especially now, he needed a _friend_ now, not a girlfriend.  There was too much on his mind lately to even think about crushes.  “We’re really just friends.”

“Gotchya,” Westley said definitively. “But, you might want to tell that to Rebecca…” He said, gesturing with his cup to Rebecca who was whispering in Barbara’s ear. She caught Dick looking at them and both girls immediately broke into laughter.  At least she was having a good time.

“Time’s up!” Rebecca called, dashing over and unlocking the bedroom door. Jordan and Jillian came out, Jillian smiling sheepishly and Jordan with the traces of lipstick on his cheek.

“Oh, you’ll be a cute couple,” the girl called teasingly. “But, alright, alright a matchmaker’s work is never done. Next two!” Her hand waved into one hat, but her hands snatched one slip on top with a dog-eared corner. “Oh wow, Barbara! Aaaanndd…” Rebecca’s hand hovered over the other hat, but Dick saw her fingers dip into her sleeve and pull out a slip in a poor attempt at a slight of hand.  “Dick Grayson!” He swallowed.

A chorus of oohs went up, and suddenly hands were pushing on his back, forcing him forward into the small bedroom. If he would have turned his head, he would have seen Barbara’s grin, but he felt him body go numb.   _If you fight me, it will only hurt more._   Someone’s hand brushed the back of his neck. _No, no, no, no, no…._

“Start the timer!” 

From behind him, the door clicked shut.

 

You’re not there. You are _not there_. He repeated to himself over the hammering of his heart in his chest.  Dick swallowed and forced his breath to remain even, focusing on Barbara’s smiling face. She gently brushed her hair behind her ear.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want,” her lips said softly.  Her eyes said differently.

Three months ago, he would have been ecstatic to have Barbara looking at him like this. Now, he just felt afraid.

“I know,” he said, but his heart wouldn’t slow down. The room felt far too small. This was all Slade’s fault, he realized.  His fear of Slade was still with him, and he _hated_ it. 

Barbara bit her lip as she did when she was nervous.  She really was beautiful.  He couldn’t let Slade ruin this. No, he _refused_ to let Slade have run this. Slade did _not_ control him anymore.

Leaning forward, he pushed his lips onto hers.  Her eyes went wide, but only for a moment before she pressed back, deepening the kiss.

_They had only been training, no different than every other day. But, Slade was watching him with an expression he had never seen before. Dick lunged into a punch, but the man easily side stepped and snatched Dick’s wrist as he did. In one fluid motion, Slade twisted in a way that brought him tangled against the man’s chest. Slade now held both wrists in one hand. The other reached up to hold Dick’s chin.  Dick squirmed, confused at what was going on. Slade watched him, before removing his mask to reveal an aged man with a short white goatee.   He only had a moment to register what he had just seen before the mask clattered to the floor.  Slade tugged his chin forward. Their lips met roughly with a one-sided passion.  It was Dick’s first kiss_.

Behind his closed eyelids, Slade’s face flashed in front of him, before he snapped them open again. _The feeling of course stubble prickled on his chin._   Barbara pulled away, her breath labored from the kiss. Her laugh sounded like church bells. Dick smiled back at her, focusing on her voice and trying to ignore the smell of Slade’s musky, cinnamon aftershave that filled his nostrils.

“Dick…” she said breathily, “When did you learn how to kiss?”

_So, tell me, Richard, is this your first time?_

“I-I don’t know.” His voice was barely over a whisper.

She laughed again, “Well, Mr. I-don’t-know, you’re _good_ at it.” She leaned again, this time wrapping her arms to hang around his neck.

_I’ll teach you to get good at it._ Focus, Grayson, he commanded himself. Forget him. Don’t let him ruin this.

Barbara’s hand snaked up to caress his face. _Slade’s fingernail scratched his cheek._

“You’re so beautiful, Dick.” _“God, you’re beautiful.”_ His stomach turned.

This was his friend, Dick reminded himself. The friend he crushed on for years. Slade would not ruin this. _He_ was in control this time.  His hands reached to gently pull Barbara by the small of her waist closer. _Slade’s large hands encircled his waist easily, drawing him in until they were pressed tightly together_.  _He didn’t want this_. Every fiber of his body protested, but he would not to give into the fear again.

Barbara pulled away, and the wet sound of their lips parting was revolting.  She caught his wrist.  _Slade held him tight enough to feel the bones grind._   “Want to sit down?” She asked, grinning ear to ear and nodding at the bed.  Dick felt his chest constrict. _No._

“Sure,” he matched her grin. He could do this. Slade would not win.

She tugged him gently forward, and he forced himself to relax and follow her lead.   _Slade pulled him forwards to a part of the Haunt he had never been before, and he followed without putting up a fight. He didn’t understand. He didn’t know._  Barbara’s brown eyes were soft and gentle, totally different from Slade’s cold blue ones.  But, he could see it.  A flicker of Slade’s lust was hiding behind her thick lashes. This time he could name it.

They settled on the queen sized bed.  The memory of a different bed, a king-sized four-post with bright red sheets flashed in his mind.   _He knew something wasn’t right. But, Slade told him to sit, and he did._ He gripped the rose print blanket to anchor himself to the present.  He could do this.  This time, Dick initiated the kiss, keeping his eyes open as he did.  He had to win this.

His head tilted backwards into her mouth as he felt a hand tug on his hair. _Do you like that?_   With Barbara’s other hand, the one not twisting curls against his scalp, she gently pushed on his shoulder.  Barbara pressed her weight into it as she leaned him backwards into the mattress.  It was gentle enough to where he could have easily resisted if he wanted. He didn’t resist.  He could _do_ this. 

Yet, the feeling of the being trapped between a mattress and the weight of another person brought forth a cold mix of heart-stopping fear, nauseating disgust, and bone deep dread. It was so familiar it _hurt_. Dick bit his lip as he shuddered. He could do it. He could make it through this.

 “Are you nervous being like this?” Barbara asked, and he forced himself to look her in the eye.  _In a moment, Slade was on top of him, holding him down, and Dick realized what was going to happen. Maybe if he didn’t look at him, he could convince himself this wasn’t happening.  But, it was. It was far too real_.  She glanced down at his hands which held the blanket in white knuckle grip without his noticing. He forced them to relax.

“No, are you?” He said, mimicking her playful tone.

“You look like it. I’m not going to hurt you, Grayson,” she teased with a smile.

_“I’ll be honest. This is going to hurt.  You’ll learn to like it eventually.”_ _Slade’s voice was in his ear. Slade’s thighs pinned his legs down as he thrashed. Slade’s lips covered his, and then he laughed into his mouth as Dick screamed._ Dick gasped for air, but it was cut off as lips met his again.

A course hand slipped under the hem of his shirt. _Slade’s fingers slithered over every inch of his skin, reaching down to his most intimate places._ _One came to rest on his neck, holding his head in place, while the other slipped beneath the line of his pants.  He had begged then, but Slade only smiled and kissed away his tears.  Slade’s hand was between his legs, a finger pressed against him, teasing the edge of outside and in._ Slade’s stench was all over him. He had never gotten it off.

Dick felt hands crawling like spiders along his back, forcing his shirt up as they pricked over his skin, the touch like needles.  The fingertips brushed one of the raised scars on his lower back. _These are mine._ It was like electricity, and his heart stopped.  _You are mine._

He couldn’t do it again.

“ _Don’t touch me!_ ”

Before it could even register in his hyperactive mind, his fist had shot out, connecting with Barbara’s torso with an audible _smack_.  Her cry resounded off the walls, a combination of pain and surprise as she was forced backwards.

His skin was on fire, every nerve ending hyperaware. The mattress felt like a tight embrace. His clothes felt like hands. Everything was too tight, too close. Everything was _touching_ him.

Dick’s stomach gave a violent twist, and suddenly he was doubled over vomiting.

“Dick, what the _hell_?”

He couldn’t respond. The sound of his own pumping blood filled his ears. At some point, he had started shaking.  His breath came in short pants; it felt like being suffocated.  _Slade’s hands around his neck, squeezing tighter to the sick rhythm of flesh meeting flesh_.  He had to get out of here.

Dick’s feet stumbled to the door. “Let me _out_ ,” his voice was raw and weak, but he didn’t care.

“What’s going on?”

“The time isn’t up yet,” came a voice on the other side. His trembling hands twisted the knob, but it was locked. _No. No! NO!_

“Dick? Did I do something?”

“God dammnit, let me out!” The crack of his voice sounded pathetic on his own ears, but he couldn’t stand to be in this room for another second.  It was all too similar. Even his memories gripped him without mercy.

_Slade had been finished with him hours ago and had thrown him in the cramped white room again.  The door was locked.  It didn’t matter. He couldn’t find the strength to stand. Slade had never given him his clothes back, so he was left to curl into himself in shame on the white tile.  He wanted to scream, to fight, but his voice was long gone and the burning pain in his lower half wouldn’t go away.  He was shivering, but it wasn’t just because he was cold.  He could smell him still. He could feel him.  He could feel everything.  Blood seeped from his legs to stain the whiteness.  Even if Slade opened the door, there was no escaping this._

The door shifted beneath his fingertips.  Dick didn’t bother to see who had opened the door. The only thing that mattered was getting out. Maybe he walked, maybe he ran.  Dick had no memory until he was suddenly standing in an alley, the buzz of the streetlamp overhead.  _The florescent light never turned off._ Tabard Street, he read as his senses slowly returned to him. Tabard was six blocks away from the Bole’s house.

Dick felt his knees quake, and he slowly sank to the ground of the alleyway. A few people glanced at the boy with designer shoes sobbing on the filthy ground, but most simply kept walking.  He stayed like that for a long time, trying to convince himself that he could handle the feeling of being dirty and alone as he came to realize he couldn’t.


	13. Sealed With a Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, between the long chapters last week and life I got somewhat behind. Anyways, without further ado... the latest chapters.

This is the _actual_ worst, Wally West thought to himself. He had been staring at his laptop for what was nearing three hours now, an open book on his lap and a few incoherent notes scrawled on paper beside him. The book report was due tomorrow and he had… Wally highlighted the written section to get a word count… a little over two hundred words written. That was including the title, his name, and an impressively redundant introduction.

He had only ready the first few chapters of the book, and now it was almost eleven at night, and he was in a time crunch having to research the rest of it.  Unfortunately, while he may be able to type at super speed, superpowers wouldn’t help him write a decent essay. Maybe there was an experiment he could mess up to give himself super essay-writing abilities. He could be… _Essay Kid_ or … _The Paper Boy_.

Wally was just starting to pull his attention back to the essay when suddenly his cellphone rang. In less than an instant, he was across the room to answer it.

“Wall-Man here, capitol of party central. How can I help you?”

“Hey, Wally.” Wally’s eyes widened at the sound of his friends tried, soft spoken voice.

“Dick, hey,” he replied, sensing the seriousness.  “What’s going on? You ok?”

“I’m…Can I come over?”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course. Where are you at?”

“Um, outside your house.”

There was a gust of wind as Wally shot downstairs opening the front door to find his best friend.  Dick’s eyes were wide with a hundred mile stare and a telltale sheen to them. 

“I’m sorry it’s late and short notice. But, I…”  Dick looked lost for words, but Wally knew immediately want he wanted.  Something had happened, and he didn’t want to be alone anymore. Wally had felt similarly too many nights before not to recognize the look of someone aching for a friend.

“Don’t worry about it. Come on in.”

“Thanks.”

As Wally led his friend upstairs, the gears turned in his head. The last time he had seen Dick outside of the mountain he was told to leave the manor, that Dick didn’t want his help. The rejection had hurt, but he had accepted that Dick needed to be alone then. He didn’t know what had happened while Dick was captured, but it didn’t matter. He would be there for his friend when he needed him.  The question now was what had happened to change Dick’s mind?

“Here we are, the bachelor pad,” he quipped, stepping back to allow Dick to go into his bedroom first.  However, Dick stopped instead, looking from something in the room back to him. Wally saw his thin chest shudder as his breath caught. “Ok, it’s been a couple days since I’ve cleaned,” he said with a casual shrug before catching Dick’s eyes. They looked _afraid_.  “Do you want to sit somewhere else?” Dick nodded, looking downward with embarrassment.  What in the world was going on with him?

“Where’s Iris and Barry?” Dick asked when they had found a comfortable place in the living room.  Wally had seated himself on the couch while Dick had simply sank to the floor to lean against the arm chair across from him.

“Uncle Barry’s up in the tower, Iris had some girl’s night out thing,” he responded, also lowering himself to the ground.  He didn’t try to go any closer to his friend who had pulled a knee to his chest, sensing his need for space.  Dick nodded absently.

“Dick, ok, come on. Are you ok? Did something happen? You’re kinda freaking me out.”

Dick sucked in a breath and let it out, his hands clutching the fabric of his jeans tighter. “No. I’m not ok.” His stunning blue eyes looked into Wally’s. He looked like he had been to hell and back. “I can’t keep it together anymore. I thought I could. I _wanted_ to do it alone. But, I’m fucking _losing it_ , Wally.”

“Is this about Deathstroke?” Wally asked softly, shifting to move closer to his friend who looked like he was about to freak out.

“ _Don’t_.” Dick stopped him although he had only barely adjusted himself. “I’m sorry, but I really just don’t want anything touching me right now.”

Wally nodded, scooting back a little more. He wasn’t sure if he understood, but he would try. “Did something happen tonight?”

“You know Barbara Gordon?”

“Uh, the girl you’ve been crushing on for years? Yeah.”  Dick gave a small nod, tucking himself further into his limbs.

“We went to a party, and I kissed her.”

“ _What_? That’s awesome! Good job!” Dick’s buried his head in his arms, shaking it back and forth.

“C’mon, wasn’t that your first kiss? What, did you mess it up?  Is that what this is about? It couldn’t have been that bad. I mean, when it was _my_ first--” Wally cut himself off.  His friend’s frail shoulders were trembling… and, oh god, he was _crying_. 

“Hey, hey it’s alright,” He tried to soothe from across the room.

“No,” Dick mumbled into his arms before picking his head up, tears still clinging to his eyelashes. “Wally, I freaked out, and… I punched her.” His voice dropped to almost a whisper, and Wally had to lean in to hear him say, “Wally, I thought it was Slade, and… and it was like it was happening all over again.”

“Slade? Is that…?”

“Deathstroke.”

“Wait, he kissed you? I thought he wanted you as his apprentice. Why would he…?” Then, Wally saw it. The change in attitude, the sudden need for space in someone who relished physical contact, added with the haunted, guilty look in his friend’s eyes.  “ _No_ ,” Wally breathed. “Did he…Dick, did he…”

“Just _say_ it,” Dick’s raw voice begged.  He looked like the hangman waiting for the executioner to pull the lever.

Wally swallowed. “Did he rape you?”

“Yes. Dammit, _yes_.” Dick buried his face in his hands, a choked noise escaping him. 

Wally’s mouth was open, but he wouldn’t find the words to fill them. “I’m so sorry,” he said, although it didn’t feel quite right. Sorry wouldn’t help his friend now.

“The thing is, I thought I was doing ok.  But, we were in this bedroom, and her kiss tasted like _him_. I really thought I was with him…I sound crazy don’t I?”

“No, you don’t. I…I can’t imagine what going through something like that must have been like – must _be_ like.  But, I’m here for you, ok? I’m glad you came here tonight.  I want to help.”

“Thanks, Wally. I just… I don’t know how to even begin dealing with this.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Wally asked, unsure if he even wanted to hear the details.  More had happened while Dick was gone then any of the team had suspected, and learning about it was… unsettling. But, if Dick needed someone to hear his story, he would be there from start to finish.

“No,” was Dick’s immediate response, “But, I need to.  I didn’t tell Canary or Bruce.  Wally, I’m so sorry to dump this on you, but--”

“Don’t apologize for this, Dick. Don’t _ever_ apologize for asking for help from me.” Dick gave a small smile in thanks.

“But, Wally there’s more, and I don’t want you to think differently of me when you hear it. You’re my best friend, my _only_ friend who knows my whole story.  I don’t want to lose you.”

“Dick, I swear I will never give up on our friendship. I won’t let you down. I promise.”

“I don’t know if telling you will even do any good, but at this point I’ll try anything.  I can’t break down like that again. I… I need to get past this.” For a moment, Dick let his eyes slip close, and he took a few steadying breaths.

“It was the day of the Clayface mission. We got back to the mountain, and Batman asked to speak with just Aqualad. I was angry, but it seems like such a stupid thing to be mad about now.  But, at the time, it felt like he was choosing Kaldur over me. Like he was saying I wasn’t good enough to cut it. As if, even after all the time and work I’d put into this, I still hadn’t earned it.

“I got mad. I left on my bike, and it was one of those moments, you know? I thought about that choice to leave the mountain a lot while I was in the haunt.  Because _maybe_ if I hadn’t let my emotions get the better of me or just tried to talk to Batman instead, then maybe we could have gone home together. I don’t think Slade would have let me go, but I would have had a little more time to stand and convince him instead of turning tail like a child.”

“Of what?”

“That I was _worth_ it, that I could handle his expectations. I could perform. But, I think all of this has just proved to him that I can’t.”

Wally opened his mouth to protest, but Dick had locked his gaze with the floor and didn’t notice, cutting him off as he continued.  “I was almost back to the manor when Slade jumped me.  He drugged me, shot me with something.  I nearly crashed my bike, but by the time I got on my feet it wasn’t much of a fight. Not that any of my fights against him were ever much of anything... Even if he hadn’t drugged me, none of it would have made a difference. I can’t beat him.”

Wally swallowed.  He had never heard Dick sounding this defeated before, like he had accepted the loss.  He had never done that before.

“When I woke up, I was in Slade’s haunt. It’s all metal and concrete, used to be some factory I think. There were these gears, and they never stopped turning and clicking. I hated it at first, but it became almost comforting.  There weren’t any clocks that I could see, so I never realized how long I had been there until I wasn’t. The gears proved that the world was still spinning.

“Wally, it was almost _surreal_ ,” Dick said, looking deep into Wally’s eyes, begging him to understand.  “There was nothing else there other than Slade. _Nothing_.  Because when I wasn’t with him, I was stuck in that _fucking_ white box.  It’s like he _knew_. He knew that I could take the blackmail and th-the beatings but the silence, the loneliness, and having to stand by and _watch_ the horrible things Slade did to his victims…”

Dick pulled both his knees up, curling inwards.  Wally ached to hug him, but he knew he couldn’t. “You know,” Dick continued, skipping over his last words as if he didn’t even realize he had even said them.  “I was in that room, and all you can do then is think. I thought a lot about you guys, the team, some about Barbara, but mostly about Bruce. I kept waiting for him to come and save me, but he never did. Every time the door opened, it was Slade.

“I’ve told you before, I spent a lot of time alone growing up in the manor. Which was so strange coming from the circus where there was always people, and noise, and a closeness. The manor is always so empty.  But, the difference was, in the haunt someone _came_ for me. Bruce knew I hated being alone, but he didn’t do much about it.  I know he was busy, and I never wanted him to stop being Batman. Other people needed him more than I did, and I’m ok with that. But, as fucked up as it sounds, when I was alone in the haunt, Slade did something about it.  It was days instead of years and that’s… I don’t know what it is, but it’s _important_.”

“Dick, he’s the one that put you in that situation in the first place.  You know Bruce has always done his best for you. That doesn’t change what Slade did.” Dick flinched.

“Trust me, I know,” Dick’s expression changed from reminiscent to one of dark focus. “As nice as the attention felt, Slade is just someone else who wants to control me.  I thought I had nothing when Slade kidnapped me. I was wrong. Because I sacrificed dignity, self-respect, and my _virginity_ , and _every damn ounce_ of pride I had to escape. And, I tried so hard not to lose my morals too but…”

Dick drew in a shaking breath, his eyebrows furrowing as he thought. “He regretted it,” he said finally.

“Regretted what?”

“… the rape.” Just the word made Wally’s stomach turn.  “But, that didn’t stop him from keeping the pictures,” Dick said with a bitter, mirthless laugh.

Wally couldn’t bring himself to ask, it was too disturbing. Dick read the question in his eyes, anyways.  “He took pictures the first time he… When I reinfected myself with the probes, Slade lost his blackmail. Not that he needed it, I couldn’t leave no matter how hard I tried. But, he took them anyways.  I think he just wanted them for his own fucked up reasons.  He said would send them out if I ever left.

“He showed them to me, Wally.  It wasn’t even so much about revealing my identity as Robin, but if you _saw_ them…” A small sob slipped from Dick’s lips, and Wally could see the tears threatening to fall. “I’ve never been so… so _ashamed_. I couldn’t let anyone see them, Wally, I just _couldn’t_.  Even if it meant… It was worth it for those things to stay in the haunt.”

“Dick, what are you talking about? _What_ was worth it?”

The tears started to slip, and Dick hurriedly wiped them away. “I didn’t want to. Wally, _please_ , you have to understand. If you just saw what it…what _I_ looked like when he… I had to get rid of them.  I _had_ to.”

“Dick, whatever it is, it’s going to be ok. You’re scaring me, buddy.”

Dick just shook his head as his body started to tremble. “When I was in his bedroom for … for that first time, I saw his laptop. Wayne-tech, top of the market. I knew he put the pictures on there, I saw him do it. I knew I could get into it. I just needed more time…”

“Look at me, Dick. It doesn’t matter what he did.  It wasn’t you, it was _him_. He made you do those things. It’s not your fault.”  Wally could feel his heart thundering in his chest. He had no idea what he was doing, but he could see Dick getting worked up, and he just wanted to _help_ him, but none of the words sounded quite right.

“No! Damn it, Wally, it _wasn’t_ him.” Dick was practically yelling now.  “You don’t _understand_. He said he regretted taking advantage of me. He would have _stopped_. He would have never touched me again, but… I knew if I ever got out he would always have the pictures. I’d never be able to escape him until they were gone. There wasn’t another choice!”

“Dick…” Wally needed to say something, he had to reach his friends somehow. But, no words came. He had no idea how to deal with this. Dick’s tears flowed freely now.

“He fucking raped me, and then I asked him to do it again!”

Wally’s mouth fell open. He didn’t know how to process what he had just heard.

Dick was sobbing now, his words coming in hiccupping gasps. “I had to get rid of them. I had to get out.”  His shoulders shuddered as his walls crumbled.  “The only way to get rid of the files on his computer and wipe the flash drive was to get back into his bedroom. I couldn’t let him keep them. I couldn’t…”

“Dick… Dick, I’m so sorry.”

“I… I let him. I let him do it. It was my choice. It was the _only_ choice.”

“Dick, you know that’s not consent. What he did was still… This _wasn’t_ your fault.”

“I asked him to do it… I s-said I _wanted_ it…”

“Dick, god, I’m so sorry, Dick. I should have been there for you. I should have…” He should have done _something_.

“I knew what I was asking for,” Dick said as he struggled to regain control over his voice. “But, living with it... The memories won’t go away. It won’t stop playing out on repeat. If I let myself think about it, I feel so disgusting _all the time_.  I had to do it, Wally, but… but I don’t know if it was worth it.”

Wally ached to hold his friend tight, “Can I?” He asked shifting forward.

“No. Please… don’t touch me.”

Wally nodded, focusing on his words instead.  “It’s going to be ok. I’m going to help you through this, ok? I’m going to be here for you, and you’re going to make it through this. Dick, you’re one of the strongest people I know -- and I know _Superman_.  I’m so, _so_ sorry you had to go through this. But, you’re safe here. I won’t _ever_ let you down again. I swear.”

Dick sniffed, scrubbing away the tears. “Can I spend the night here? I… I don’t want to be alone.”

“Of course. Whatever you need, buddy.”

“Thank you, Wally. For everything.”

“You’re my best friend. You know I’d do anything for you.”

 

When Iris West came home, she was startled to find her nephew and his best friend curled up on opposite ends of the living room. She shook her head with a smile, _boys_.  A brief thought told her to chastise Wally in the morning for being immature and letting a guest sleep on the floor, but she decided against it. After tossing a blanket over their huddled forms, she gave them one last glance. They looked so young, so innocent in their sleep. It was sometimes hard to believe the things they had been through. 

As she turned to leave, she noticed something. A reddish flash in the ceiling light.  Iris stared at it for a few minutes, but didn’t see it again. Dismissing it as a trick of the late evening, she bid a silent goodnight to the sleeping boys and left them alone. The moment she left, the red eye of the camera turned back on again to continue its recording.


	14. Eden

“I asked him to do it… I s-said I wanted it…” Slade studied his apprentice’s troubled face has he broke down. He really was beautiful when he was in pain.

Slade leaned back into the shadows of one of the many alleys of Star City. He cocked his head to listen for something. Not hearing it, he rewound the tape. “I asked him to do it…”  A silent chuckle escaped his lips. ‘Asked’ wasn’t exactly the word Slade would use to describe Richard’s way of seducing him. Whoring himself out was more like it.

Yes, Slade had suspected the boy didn’t honestly want the sex. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and in the throes of their one-sided passion, that one-sidedness had been more than apparent.  But, there was something about Richard that made him lose control. 

More than anything, Slade prided himself on his absolute control, over himself, his work, and others. He lavished it more than anything. However, there was something about this boy, this exquisite creature, which made him want to give in to his more… _primal_ urges.

He wasn’t proud of his decision to rape the boy. It was weakness that made him give in, and weakness was something he had overcome years ago. But, even before they had begun training for the day, Richard had been going through his own warm-up routine which, unbeknownst to the boy, was incredibly sensual. The way he would bend and twist then stretch out his lithe body and flex his toned muscles while still maintaining flawless form was nothing less than intoxicating. Slade knew he had to have it, to _own_ it completely.

Having Richard beneath him, having his beautiful body tangled in his grasp and spread out for his taking, sparked a feeling in him he hadn’t felt since Adeline. Yet, even then, Adeline’s love with an older, hard won love, like a candle set to burn throughout a romantic dinner but dying before it was over.  Richard was like the blast of a firecracker, young and energetic but burning hot and painful.  Something you had to break open to get to the real show.

That was one of the things that had changed in him since the experiment. Slade had come to enjoy the pain of a battle hard fought.  It was an animalistic, savage sort of something that Adeline had hated him for, and it was the same thing that drew him to Richard.  He was free spirited, strong-willed, and had been trained to near perfection… and Slade wanted all of it.  Richard was like an exotic bird, and a bird had no place in a batcave.  An exotic bird with one hell of an ass.

In an act of self-control, he had told Richard he regretted his actions. However, when the boy dropped to his knees and _begged_ with lust-stricken eyes for him to do it again… there was simply no denying him.  The ecstasy that radiated off Richard’s skin was like his own personal high.  The addiction to him was a weakness that could only be overcome by making Richard submit. He had to prove his control was superior to Richard’s.

The sound of a scuffle overhead drew Slade out of his thoughts. Looking up, he saw the Clock King give a wild laugh as he lead Green Arrow and his similarly-clad sidekick over the rooftops of Star City. Just as Slade had paid him to do. 

“Haha, do you think you can catch me this _time_ , Arrow?”

“If you’d stop running for a second, I’ll _tell_ you what I’m thinking.”

“Was that a pun, Arrow? I’ll say, it was right _on the dot_.”

“Any clock with dots is one that needs _cleaning_.”

“Will you _stop_ it and just take him down already?” Artemis growled from beside him.

“All right, all right,” Arrow mumbled. “Spoilsport,” he whispered under his breath.

“Perhaps not,” the Clock King bantered back. “I think what you need, girlie, is a lesson in _time management.”_ With that, he threw out a clock-shaped disk, the face of the clock opening to let loose a net around Artemis. It caught her midair and brought her crashing to the ground in an ungraceful tangle.

“Artemis, hold on I’ll get you out,” Green Arrow called, stopping to help her.

“No! I’ll be fine, just _book_ him!”

“Fine, be back in a flash!”  Artemis groaned again as she pulled one of her steel tipped arrows and began to untangle herself from the web.  As she was distracted, Slade seized his opportunity.

With the stealth of a trained professional, Slade slipped onto the rooftop and, in an instant, grabbed the net with Artemis still inside and leaped onto the next rooftop. Clock King had done his job well, Slade only had to lug the writhing and screaming girl a few more rooftops before reaching his safe house and slipping inside.

“Let go of me you fucking creep!” Artemis spat as she squirmed.

“As you wish,” Slade said laconically, tossing the tangled mess into the wall. Artemis let out a grunt as her head hit the back wall.   “Now, Artemis Crock, I know you are perfectly capable of escaping that net, but I suggest you sit tight and hear what I have to say.”

Artemis scowled, her hands continuing to make quick work of the partially opened net. “And why would I do that?”

“Because it concerns your family, and you wouldn’t want anything to happen to your poor mother.” She froze at that.

“H-how do you know about…?”

“Oh, Artemis, I know _everything_.” He let his voice seep over his tongue, and he watched her shiver. “I also know you’ve recently had rather unpleasant meeting with your father. I do hope your ribs are healing well, by the way.” Her eyes went wide.

“Why do you care?  It’s none of your business,” she snarled, tossing aside the net. However, she didn’t leave. Slade suppressed a smile, he had her right where he wanted.

“I know your father very well, I could convince him to leave you and your mother alone. Or, I could convince him to pay more frequent visits home.”

“He would listen to someone like you, wouldn’t he,” Artemis hissed, more to herself than anyone else. “And, I take it you want something in return for this ‘favor’?”

“Naturally.”

“Yeah, well you can go suck a fat one, Deathstroke. I’ve dealt with him before, and I’ll do it again.  This is a family matter, not that you would know anything about that.”  Slade narrowed his gaze.

He didn’t think she would refuse, perhaps he had overestimated her fear. Or perhaps he had just waited too long to act. “You would sacrifice your mother’s already fragile health just to keep me away? That’s not as noble as you may think it sounds.”

“I know what kind of person you are. I know you hurt Robin. You can stay the hell away from me and my family.”  So, she wouldn’t take the easy tactic. No matter, he had a backup plan she wouldn’t refuse. He only smirked. She was going to regret not taking his first deal.

“I’m sorry, you seem to think you have a say in what I do. It is, in fact, the opposite. I’m not going to stay away until I get what I want. And, trust me, I will get what I want.”

“You don’t have any leverage over me.” He chuckled at that, and a shiver passed through the girl.

“Wrong again, Artemis. I have a whole file of information on you, your mother, your sister, and every one of your little friends. Moreover, I don’t care if I have to hurt them or kill them to accomplish my goals. Which, my dear, sweet Artemis, is where we differ.  I assume Robin never told you all just what he knows I’m capable of doing. Things he saw me do that disgusted him, and I know he has a stronger stomach than you do.  I’d hate to have him remember those _techniques_ while using your nearest and dearest as examples.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying. You can either agree to my terms now, or I will go out of my way to permanently leave my mark on your friends and family. Starting with your Young Justice friends, working my way to your mother. I will go as far as to kill them if I have to, and not even the Justice League will be able to stop me.”

“Y-you’re bluffing. You can’t take out an entire team of sidekicks without the League coming for you.  You’re not that good.” Slade raised an eyebrow. Was she trying to provoke him or was she just stupid?

“There is a lot of room for improvisation between here and not dead. Look at this way, Artemis. Perhaps you wish to deal with Sportsmaster yourself, that’s fine. But, can you assume the responsibility if I go out of my way to make all of your friends suffer? And I will get to all of them if you do not comply. That sweet Martian, the young and naïve, Kryptonian, your fish-out-of-water leader, that red head you like so much. Or, perhaps I’ll just go after our young Robin again, after all he’s been through.  Would you be able to bear the responsibility of their pain?” He saw her fists clenched as Artemis warred within her own mind over what to do.

“It’s really very simple Artemis.  I have information on all of them to ruin each of their individual lives.  Either I hurt them or you do me this one favor.  It really is such a simple task really, one no one will ever be able to trace back to you.”

He saw it in her eyes, she was thinking it over now, but she would accept. “What is it?”

Slipping a hand into his utility belt, he pulled out a strip of paper with two tiny, near-opaque sequins stuck on it and a circular communicator. “All you need to do is place these inside Mount Justice, and let me know when you do. Then, you can destroy the communicator and I’ll never contact you again. I’ll even throw in the added bonus of telling Sportsmaster to keep away from you and your mother, because I’m feeling _generous_ today.”

“Is this about Robin?” She asked, brows furrowed as she tried to put the pieces together.

“It doesn’t matter what it is about, will you do it or not.”

“You’re going to use this to take Robin back.” It was a statement.

“Robin never left in the first place.  I was under the impression you had figured that out.  Or did he trick you? He’s quite the little actor.  But, that’s irrelevant now.  What is your choice, Artemis?  Will you give up wellbeing of your friends and your mother for a treacherous mercenary or will you try to postpone the inevitable?”

She bit her lip. With a slow breath, she stepped forwards.  “Has Robin killed?”

“Yes,” he responded simply. “Unlike you, he is a born killer who was raised as a hero.  As I said, his fate is inevitable.”  Artemis looked away, then turned back to him. This time, her gaze was steeled. Slade knew he had won once again.

With a slow hand, as if reaching out to test the heat of an open flame, Artemis took the communicator and the tiny cameras from his hands.

“Do you promise not to hurt them if I do this? Can you swear that they’ll be safe?”

“If we engage in a battle, I will not hold back. However, yes, if you do this I will not seek them out, I will not harm them.”

“What about Robin?  What will happen to him?”

“There is no Robin. Only a traitor, a renegade. And he belongs to me.”

“You’re going to hurt him instead. Force him to be your slave…” Artemis said slowly, staring at the communicator in her hand.  “He’s stronger than that. He’s better than you.”

“You decided to act for the good of your team.  Keeping Robin away from them is also in their best interest.  What I do with my apprentice is between him and me alone. However, if you’re really so curious about what kind of person he is why don’t you ask him for yourself? Then again, you don’t even know his real name.”

“That’s confidential,” Artemis countered, but she was slipping.  She wanted to escape. Slade took a step forwards.

“ _I_ know what is name is. The truth might surprise you.” Artemis could only shake her head.  “Go back to your mentor, Artemis.  When you decide you want the truth, all you need to do is ask,” he nodded at the communicator.                

Artemis stared at it blindly, frozen by the weight of her own decisions.

“I won’t lie to you Artemis. There is, in fact, honor among thieves. Robin, however, will do what it takes to keep his secrets. He is the snake the poisons your safe haven, your Eden. Don’t let him fool you.”

“He’s my friend…” she said softly, not bothering to watch as Slade merged with the shadows of the safe house.

“He’s a performer, my dear.  The mask allows him to blend in, to hide his true nature. Your family is familiar enough with masks to know that a mask is its own form of psychological warfare. Your new family, your Eden is poisoned by another mask-wearing snake, Artemis. Don’t let your weakness ruin this home as well.”

               

“There you are!” Green Arrow called as he saw Artemis make her way toward the rooftop he was standing on. “I was about to circle around a third time. Where were you?”

“Oh, the roof I was on gave in…old building I guess. I was caught up for longer than I thought. It’s no big deal,” she said with a degree of forced nonchalance.

“Well, if you say so. Hey, I know it’s late, but the Clock King is in good hands, and I was thinking we could by Pappy’s for a celebratory pizza.”

“You only like their pizza because they give you food for free and tell you how great you are.”

“No, it’s also a fine eating establishment.  Their stellar opinions are just a perk.  Anyways, I know you like to get back home early so we can skip it.”

“Actually, I was going to say yes.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I think it’d be nice to spend some time together not-heroing.”

“Well,” Arrow said, somewhat taken aback. “All right then. Look, I know we don’t have the closest relationship of all the partnerships in the League, but I’m glad to have you with me. You make a fine hero, you know?”

Artemis forced a smile, one that didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Thanks. I… The Justice League is my family. I try to be the kind of hero that’s worth of them.”

“And you are. Who knows, maybe one day you’ll even save their sorry butts. What I’m trying to say is I’m proud of you, kiddo.”

Artemis didn’t respond. “Let’s go get that pizza.”


	15. Back to Basics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for another late update; it's been a week. With a holiday coming up, I should be able to get enough ahead so this won't happen again.

“You can’t keep _fighting_ this, Richard,” Slade said, looking down at him, a gun in his hand.

“I can and I will,” he bit back from his place on the training floor ground where he had been kicked.

“I see your time alone did nothing to change your mind.”

“I won’t use a gun. I won’t kill.”

“And why is that? Because the Batman said so?”

“No. Because life is precious. That’s something I believed in before I ever met Batman.”

“All life?”

“ _Everyone_.”

“Not the animals you eat.”

“People are more than animals. You can’t convince me that it’s the same thing,” he said with his best Batman glare, picking himself up.

“I want to show you something, Richard.” Slade turned to leave the training room, holstering the gun. The command to follow was left unsaid.

The two continued to the inner part of the haunt. Dick tensed as they headed towards the hall with the isolation room, but instead Slade turned to go down an adjacent hall lined with heavy-looking doors.  Behind one of them, a small sobbing noise escaped.

“Is that… is there _a kid_ in there?”  He gasped in horror.

“Eileen Bosworth, seven years old.”

“You’re a _monster_. Let her go!”

“We both know you have no say over my actions, Richard.  But, I’ll have you know she has not been harmed in any way.”

His fists curled into tight balls, Dick was seething with frustration at being only a few feet from someone in need and being completely useless.

“Calm down, Richard. You’re going to want to save your strength.”  These excessive emotions of his would get him nowhere.  Slade watched as Richard forced himself to uncurl his hands and take a deep breath. “Now, what is it you should be asking?”

Slade could see the venomous retort on his face, but Richard managed to swallow it down. “What do you want from me,” he forced out.

In a flash, Slade’s hand snapped out, and his open palm met Richard’s cheek with a satisfying crack.  The force of the blow snapped his head to the side and would have knocked him over if the boy hadn’t set his stance. Slade almost smiled. He was getting better.

“What do you want, _Master_.”

“That’s better. Now, listen closely.  We’ve spent a lot of time training your body. However, we can only progress so far while you still hold onto these antiquated convictions of yours.  Your mind needs to be fine-tuned.”

“I _won’t_ kill.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I will. As my apprentice, you will learn.”  Slade took a step closer to the door, “You know, Robin. If I were to propose a situation to this little girl that was kill or be killed, she would probably choose to kill. Even a child would know.  The bat has taught you on the basis of a structurally flawed argument.”

“I won’t do it. You can’t convince me otherwise,” Dick said firmly, his fists clenched.

“I will have my apprentice, Richard,” Slade paused. “Perhaps, I should take this girl instead. Someone younger who knows an insensible argument when she hears one.”

“Don’t you _dare_ touch her.”

“You couldn’t stop me if I wanted to.  Fortunately, Richard. I am patient, and you’re still my first choice.  Will you really be so selfish as to place that burden on someone else?”

Richard bit his lip; he was caught in his own logic, and Slade knew it. “No,” he said softly.

Slade smiled. “Luckily for you, I am a generous man, and I have a compromise that I think will work wonderfully for the both of us.”

“You can’t make me kill. I won’t.”

“My dear Robin, I would have thought you’d learn by now.”  Slade stooped down to grip his chin tightly.  “I can make you do anything.”  Dick shuddered.  He then dropped it roughly, and Richard vigorously tried to rub away the feeling of Slade’s hand. “Come on, boy. We have a guest that won’t be kept waiting.”

With a sudden, thrashing jerk, Dick woke up, his limbs twisted in this own sheets. He was panting, trying to catching his breath and steady his racing heart. Lifting a hand to his brow, Dick found that he was covered in sweat. 

"This has _got_ to stop…” He chastised himself softly. The nightmares – no, the _memories_ – were overpowering at best and unbearable at worst. 

Dick tried to get his bearings again.  After falling asleep at Wally’s, he had woken up shortly after and had zeta’d home. Mostly, he was afraid that if he went back to sleep, the next time he woke up he wouldn’t be able to keep quiet.

With a sigh, Dick dropped his head between his knees. He had hoped confessing to Wally would have helped more. It was true that he felt better about not having to keep his secrets so tightly, but at the same time he knew it wouldn’t stop the nagging feeling in the back of his head.

He couldn’t remember what happened next in the memory. Dick did his best to push the dream away and start to ready his head for the day. Yet, underneath it all, he had some sense of what had happened next. Something painful. Something horrible. He could feel it at the edge of his consciousness, just out of reach. It felt familiar, perhaps it was the same one that had keep him up these past few nights. However, he just could never _remember_ it.  Someone screaming, but he couldn’t make sense of the words.  But, it was all foggy, thick as a sickly syrup and too hard to wade through to get anywhere.  It was so much easier to not try at all.

There was a knock at the door, and he flinched at the sound. “Master Richard, it is getting quite late in the afternoon, and Master Bruce has requested your presence at the dining table. He mentioned something about an appointment to keep?”

Dick sighed. Right, this again. “I remember, I’ll be down in a second.” With what feel like an enormous outpouring of energy, Dick pushed himself out of bed and fumbled to get dressed.

Before tugging on his shirt, Dick caught sight of his mangled back in the mirror _. The hiss and snap of leather on his bare skin, splitting it in two. Over and over and over._   Maybe someday he would get used to it, be able to look at himself without remembering.

“Good morning, Master Richard,” Alfred greeted as he trudged down the stairs, and he replied politely.

“You haven’t slept in this late in a while, Dick. It’s almost eleven.  I take it your evening with Barbara went well?” Bruce cocked an eyebrow. Dick knew he meant it as a teasing joke, despite his flat expression. Yet, the implication turned his stomach as the memory of the party came back to him.

“Y-yeah. We ended up going to Bab’s friend’s party, and it went late. It was kind of boring, really,” he managed with a shrug as he sat.  Bruce just hummed into his coffee in response.  Could Bruce tell he lying?

“Listen, Dick. I know you’ve been working hard lately to … get through this. Training extra in the gym and putting up with Canary’s appointments.” Bruce cleared his throat, “I was thinking that… if you were feeling up to it, perhaps you could join me tonight for patrol?”

Bruce’s wording came out somewhat awkward and forced, but Dick instantly perked up at his proposal.  Behind Bruce’s strained request, he was asking Dick to spend time with him, he was opening his arms to Dick in the only way he knew how. By suggesting that they go fight in the streets side by side as a team.  Dick had no idea what had changed in Bruce to get him to stop ignoring him, but there was no way he was about to pass up this opportunity.

“Yes! That sounds awesome.”  Bruce’s lips twitched upwards in a hint of a smile. He nodded again.

“Very well.” Dick could feel Alfred sigh from behind him.  “In the meantime, you’re appointment with Canary is scheduled for a little while from now. If you haven’t finished you’re schoolwork, you should do it at the Mountain until it’s time for patrol.  I’ll be in the tower most of the day.”  Dick nodded, unable to keep the smile off his face. Perhaps things weren’t back to normal, but this was certainly a step in the right direction. 

He spent the time before the appointment working in the gym, savoring the familiar burn of his muscles. It hurt, but it was familiar and comforting all the same. He was getting stronger, and that was most important. 

How much stronger exactly, he hadn’t realized until he was in the cave pulling on the Robin suit. It was much tighter than he remembered. He knew he had bulked up some while with Slade and the extra training in the manor had probably helped also.  Making a note to ask Alfred to make a larger size, he admired himself in the mirror. 

The red and black tunic and cape felt so familiar, instantly transforming him into the beloved Robin of Gotham City.  Dick made a silent note of thanks that the collar was high enough to cover the scars.  In the mirror, his visage flexed, puffing up to look more powerful. He hadn’t felt this kind of strength in a long time. He pressed the domino mask over his eyes.  Perhaps avoiding the costume was a mistake.  All that was missing now was a smirk, a cackle, and an arsenal of puns and prefixes.

“Robin, are you ready?” Batman called.  With a dramatic cartwheel-double flip, Dick launched himself out of the dressing room to stand before Batman. He lifted his arms in a finishing salute.  Bruce didn’t smile, but Dick saw his nostrils flare in amusement as he repressed one. Spoilsport.

“Let’s go then.”

The Mountain was filled with sound, and it brought a warm sense of home to his chest.  In the middle of the area, he and Batman had arrived just in time to see Connor dodge a hit from Kaldur’s water bearers. He then sidestepped and gripped Kaldur in just the right way to throw him to the ground.

“Aqualad: Fail.” The computer intoned.

“Nice one, Connor,” Dick cheered as he made his way over. Connor looked pleasantly surprised to see him.

“Robin! Welcome back!” Megan greeted immediately from her place on the other side of the ring with the rest of the team and Black Canary who nodded her greeting.

“Rob!” Wally said, with much more surprise than the others.  “You’re here? I mean, it’s good to see you. It’s just…” He stumbled over himself as he zipped over. Flashing a look to Batman who had already started to walk away, “I woke up and you just left a note,” he whispered. “Are you ok?”

Dick flashed a smile, “Yeah, I’m good, actually. I’m sorry about that, Walls. It just I didn’t feel right staying.”

“Ok, well it’s all good, man. I’m glad you’re back.”

“Me too.”

“Hello, Robin,” Kaldur greeted, picking himself up off the floor.

“Hey, Kal,” he replied, raising his voice back to a normal volume.

“Will you be joining us in training today?”

“No, actually I’m here to talk with Canary. I’ll be hanging around afterwards, though.”

“Well, whenever you would like, we would be happy for you to join us on missions again.”

“Thanks, but I think I should run it by Batman first. I’d assume it’ll be sometime soon.”

“Why do you need to ask Batman for permission?” Connor interjected.

Dick bit the inside of his lip. Batman was long gone, not here to tell Connor not to ask such questions.  Despite his offer for patrol, Dick knew Batman still thought he was volatile. Emotionally compromised. A potential liability with baggage. He was deemed unfit for teamwork.  Dick knew he would have to prove himself on patrol tonight if he was going to truly get back to being Robin. Like many things with Bruce, this was another challenge.

“Just got to make sure I’m in shape for the job. Nothing major.”

“Whenever you’re ready, Robin,” M’gann chirped.  His team had clustered around him, and they nodded in agreement. That is, with the exception of Artemis who was hanging back, just out of the circle formed.  Which, didn’t make sense. He thought that they were cool with each other.

“Hey, Artemis. How’s it going?” He tested.  She looked up at him as if pulled out of a trance.

“Oh, you know. Same old.” Her tone said otherwise, but he wouldn’t press. He just hoped this wasn’t about him.

“Robin, I’m sorry to interrupt but I have a tight schedule today,” Canary said honestly. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.” Here goes nothing. “I’ll catch up with you guys later,” he said with a wave as he trailed Canary back to the therapy room.

“You seem to be in a better mood,” Canary commented as they sat.  “Have things been better recently?”

Dick’s mind flashed to the nightmares, his emotional breakdown in front of Wally, his panic attack, and his outburst at Barbara.  “Not exactly.  But, I think being back in uniform helps.  I definitely feel better as Robin.”

“That’s good to hear. But, I hope you don’t come to rely on Robin to avoid your other problems.  Were here to talk about the person behind the mask, which I know is a much harder task.  What did you mean by not exactly?”

Dick swallowed. “I…I had this flashback while I was with a friend. I hurt her on accident.  I didn’t mean to, I swear. It all just happened so fast. I ended up going to Wally’s house and talking to him.”

“I’m sorry, Robin. I know that’s got to be hard to come to terms with. But, I am glad you decided to talk to Wally. That shows improvement.  Do you want to talk about the flashback?”

“No. I… Please, don’t make me,” he begged softly, averting his gaze.

“That’s alright, you don’t have to. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want here, alright?” Dick nodded, a weight lifting from his chest. “Does Bruce know?”

“No,” he managed softly.  Canary nodded as she jotted something down.  “But, him and I are going on patrol tonight,” he said in a defensive attempt.

“That’ll be good for you two to spend some time together. I know he can be thick headed at times.”

Dick cocked an eyebrow. “Preaching to the choir,” he said with a smile.  She laughed at that. “But, Canary,” he said more seriously. “About my friend, I didn’t exactly leave things well. I don’t know what to do when I see her next.”

Canary thought for a moment. “Balancing hero and civilian life is always tricky.”

“I don’t want to lie to her.”

“Then don’t. Tell her you were reminded of something you saw. Something that happened to someone else perhaps. If she’s your friend, and you tell her that you witnessed something emotionally trying, she should understand if you spare her any details.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“I know you won’t compromise your identity.  All you can do is try to make her understand.”

“I don’t want to lose anything else to Slade. Especially my friends.”

“I know you don’t.” Canary shuffled her papers. “Robin, I want to ask you about your time with Slade. Is that all right?”

He swallowed. “Yeah, sure.”

“What was your relationship with Slade while you were there?” 

His eyes went wide.  Flashes of red sheets, the sound of grunts and moans in his ear, the feeling of being pressed into the mattress went through his mind at warp speed. But, he wouldn’t let them win again. He was stronger this time.

“Slade wanted me to be his apprentice. To succeed him as a hired assassin.”

“So he tried to act as a mentor of sorts?”

_“I’m not like the bat, Richard. I am not your father, I am not your teacher. I am your master.”_

“Y-yeah. Of sorts.”

“What was he like?”

“Controlling,” was the first word out. “He needs to be in control at all times. Smart, patient, calculating.” After a pause, he added, “He’s cruel. Slade would do anything to win.  He doesn’t have boundaries or limits. For anything.”

“Are you afraid of him?”

The question caught him off guard. Afraid? He was _terrified_ of him. Never before had he seen such raw power in one person. Enough to scare even the Justice League. Never before had he been made to feel so outclassed and powerless.  “I can’t beat him. There’s no way I could even try to resist him without being completely overpowered.  That was probably the worst thing about the haunt.”

Canary nodded at his half-answer and made another note.

“That and being isolated from everything.”

“You missed your home, your friends. That’s understandable.”

“More than that.  There was a room,” he said softly.

“A what?”

“An isolation room, all white. Stayed in there a lot.” His hands intertwined themselves tightly.

“Robin…” Canary breathed, as if she wasn’t sure what she heard.  “You know you never deserved any punishment he gave you, right?”

“I know.”  The words came out automatically.

She nodded. “I think what’s going to be most helpful right now is rebuilding your relationships here with your friends in a safe place.  Establishing a routine, some normalcy.  You know, the team has been itching for a break. Perhaps you could do something together, something relaxing.  What do you think?”

Something relaxing sounded _really_ nice.  “Sounds like a plan.”

“And, Robin?” She said, stopping him as he was about to get up. “If something happens again, please call me, alright?”

“Will do, Dinah.”

“Hey, guys!” He shouted when he had found them all, sans Artemis, working in the training room. “How would you feel about a camping trip?”


	16. Big Brother, Older Sister

“Did someone say camping?” Wally asked excitedly.

“What’s camping?” Superboy asked, setting his weights down and coming over.

“It’s where you go out into the wilderness and pitch a tent and roast marshmallows and tell ghost stories and you’re out under the stars and its _awesome_.”

“I have not been camping either, Superboy.”  Kaldur reassured.

“Me neither! But, I’ve seen it on TV a few times,” M’gann added.

“Wait,” Wally threw up his hands. “Are you all saying me and Rob are the only ones who have ever been camping before? Dude, we gotta help them.”

Dick chuckled. “Well, first, Artemis isn’t here to weigh in. Second, I’ve never been camping either.  I spend my nights in tights, dude.”  That, and if Bruce ever miraculously had a night off he would never vouch to spend it in a tent outside on the dirt.  The closest he had got to camping was his nights as a child sitting around fire pits lit by the fire-breather with the rest of the troupe before they retired to their respective trailers.  But, that had been years ago.

“You gotta be kidding me. That decides it. We’re going camping.”

“Where is Artemis, anyhow?” Dick asked.

“Beats me, she left a little while after you went with Dinah.”

 “Sleeping outside doesn’t sound all that great,” Conner intoned with a shrug.

“No, it’s even better than is sounds. I swear,” Wally argued with a grin. “You’re going to love it.” Robin chuckled at Connor’s unconvinced face as the familiar feeling of being part of the Young Justice team came back to him.  Yes, some normalcy was just what he needed.

 

On the other side of the mountain, Artemis had tucked herself into her bedroom, one hand clutching a round communicator.

“Artemis, respond to me. _Now_.” The communicator demanded.  It had buzzed a little before Robin had arrived at the mountain, and Deathstroke had been growing more impatient for a response ever since. 

“ _What_ ,” she hissed in her softest voice. If anyone heard her it would be the end of everything he had worked so hard to gain.  She prayed Superboy wasn’t paying attention, that the walls had been proofed at least partially for privacy, that no one would suspect anything of her disappearance.

“My cameras still aren’t online, Artemis. I want to know why.” Deathstroke’s voice was an icy, deadly sort of calm.

“I haven’t had the opportunity yet.”

“I don’t believe there needs to be an opportunity to begin with. My cameras are near undetectable.  All you need to do is put then on the wall. I couldn’t possibly have made it easier.”

Artemis was silent. She didn’t want to do it. Every part of her screamed to tell him off and get help from someone who knew what they were doing. However, the stakes were too high now.

“Need I remind you what I am capable of?”

“No.” She took a breath, but it didn’t do anything to settle her heart. “I’ll do it.”

“Good. You have an hour.”

“What?”

“I said, you have an hour to get them online. Do it, or I pick one of your friends to reprimand.”

“Don’t hurt them,” she hissed into the com as venomously as she could manage.

“Fifty nine minutes and counting. Don’t waste my time.” The link cut with a soft click.

Damn him, she thought, her fists clenching around the silent device before forcing herself to relax and shove it into a concealed pocket.  As she came back into the living room, the rest of her team greeted her with a smile.  Robin practically beamed at her.

“Hey Artemis!” He greeted cheerily, “we’re going to go camping, want to join us?”  He looked far better than he had any of the pervious times he had visited the mountain. Like he was actually starting to move past his time with Slade. And she was about to help him get Robin back.

“Yeah, Robin. That sounds like fun.”  She tried to settle back into the conversation, picking an individual chair that was still included in the circle without being immediately close to the rest of the team.  As the team chatted on about camping, she slowly slipped her hand into her pocket to feel the tiny stud of the camera.

Was this really the best choice? Was this really the only way?  She knew Deathstroke wouldn’t hesitate to hurt any of them.  But, was sacrificing Robin really the only way to protect them? Then again, she knew what kind of person Deathstroke was. Even if she refused, he would find a way to get the cameras, and Robin, and make sure they all suffered a much worse fate.  It was much easier just to give in and let him do what he wanted.  It was a coward’s way out. It was the way out she had taken many times with her own father. She had never been able to come up with another way before, and time was not on her side for this one.

In one graceful motion, she shifted in the chair. Her hand slipping out of her pocket with the camera attached to her finger pad. She readjusted to hang one arm behind the couch, sticking the camera in the nook of the fabric as her arm swept casually back.  It would give a near perfect view of the room.

The silver dot sparked for a moment before shifting to blend in with the couch fabric. Artemis tried not to stare, but even she couldn’t see the camera now.  She took a few more deep breaths to calm down and convince herself that no one had noticed.  The conversation had turned to what school was like without anyone having noticed a thing.

“Don’t you agree, Artemis?” Robin asked.

“Um, sorry can you repeat the question? I kind of zoned out.”

“I said, private schools are the worst.”

“Oh. Well, they’re not so bad. I mean, they have…” she fumbled for the words.

“Better food?” Robin suggested.

“Yeah, that.”  She rubbed the back of her neck.  Suddenly, she felt the inside of her pocket buzz. Not again... “Excuse me,” she mumbled as she got up, hurriedly getting out of the room before anyone could ask questions.

When she was back in the safety of her room, she turned on the communicator. Deathstroke didn’t wait for her to say anything before speaking.  “Good work on the first camera.  Glad to see my apprentice is looking well. Sloppy cover-up, but it will do. For the next camera, I want you to put it in your training room.”

“I can’t.  They’re already going to be suspicious that I keep leaving.”

“My time limit hasn’t changed. You have thirty six minutes left.” Once again the communicator link cut.  She wanted to scream.  She was in deep, way too deep.

Reluctantly, she pulled herself up again. If she could just get this done, it would all be over. She could go on turning a blind eye to Deathstroke. She’d have her family. She’d be safe with them. All of them except Robin, a small voice whispered, but she shoved it down.  Just endure this, just survive and worry about the moral implications later.  It was the best strategy she had.

Artemis slipped into the hall, taking the long way around to the training room to avoid passing by the living room.

“Artemis!” She froze. She was caught, they’d find her out. Her heart started to race as she turned to see Canary walking casually forward.  “Why aren’t you with the others?” Canary asked casually.

“I, um, think I dropped my cell phone in the training room. I can’t find it.”

“Oh, well, while I have you here we might as well talk. I have something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Artemis’s eyes widened. No, no, no! She didn’t have time for this!

“What is it?”

“I know Robin’s return hasn’t been easy for you, but I wanted to say that I’m really glad you were able to accept him.  He’s been through a horribly traumatic experience, and I know it’s not easy to believe that he didn’t genuinely side with Deathstroke. He’s a good kid, and right now he needs friends he can trust so that he can start to heal.”

Artemis opened her mouth to retort, anything to cut her off so she could get away, but Canary didn’t notice and kept talking.  “I think while he was away, some of his trust in others was snuffed out. I’m not sure what Deathstroke did, and even if I did know it’s not my place to tell, but he hurt someone who isn’t usually affected by people like him.  Do you get what I’m saying?”

“Yes, I do,” she said curtly, moving to step away.

“That trust is so important. You know more than anyone else on the team.  I know you care for him and everyone on the team. I also know interpersonal relationships aren’t your strong suit. But, I think helping him heal will be good for everyone.”

“Yeah, no problem Canary.” Artemis said with a definitive nod. “I got it, but I really need to get going. Grab my phone and get back to the others and all that.” She didn’t stick around to hear Canary’s response before walking as briskly as she could towards the training room.  Artemis glanced at the time on the communicator. Fifteen minutes. Plenty of time.

Artemis was planning where to put the camera, perhaps on the side of the computer to give the best view of the ring, when she was stopped in the entry way once again.  In the middle of the atrium was Batman, tapping away at the giant computer.

She back peddled immediately, ducking into the first side room she could find.

“I can’t do it,” she whispered into the communicator. “Batman’s in the room. He’ll notice, I can’t do it now.”

“That’s unfortunate for your friends.  Do you have a preference for which one will pay the price for your failure?”

“Do you hear me? I said I can’t do it now! It’s not my fault, I can’t get past Batman. Just give me more time. I can do it later when he leaves. Please, I just need more time.”

“I do not bargain. The agreement does not change.  You have ten minutes.”

“No! Dammit, _no_!” There was no response. He was forcing her to wing something she was woefully under-skilled for.  Maybe Robin could pull it off without rousing suspicion. Maybe. This was impossible, and Slade knew it.

She pulled herself out of the room to stand just outside of the doorway to the training room. Now the question was, did she do something that was guaranteed to arouse suspicion, possibly leading to her removal from the closest family she had, or did she save her own skin and sacrifice one of her teammates instead.  

Artemis sighed. No, she couldn’t let someone else pay the price for her again. She had to do it, it wasn’t a choice. With all the false bravado she could muster, Artemis stepped into the training room.

She kept her eyes trained on Batman, yet he didn’t so much as look up from his work. Of course, she was certain he knew exactly where she was.  Slipping a hand into her pocket, she put the camera on the tip of her finger, ready to activate. 

“Um, Batman?” She said tentatively, taking a step closer. She had to play this cool. It had to work.  He only grunted in reply.

“I was wondering, since you know Robin the most, if he has changed since... since being with Deathstroke.”  It wasn’t smooth, but she needed some kind of excuse to get close to the computer. As she talked, she took a step closer.

The question cause Batman to pause his typing, but only for a moment.  “Robin is worthy of your trust if that’s what you are implying.”

Another step closer. She was almost in arm’s reach, but she had to make this look casual.  “I guess what I’m asking is how can he spend two months with Deathstroke and still be trust worthy? What kind of person is he to begin with to be able to do that?” She was almost beside Batman now.  The man eyed her dangerously.

“Robin has been trained to survive physical and mental extremities. He was prepared.”

“He didn’t seem like he had been prepared when he first came back.” That did it. 

In an instant, Batman had drawn himself up from the keyboard to stand at his full menacing height.

“Robin was _not_ compromised by Deathstroke.  He was better prepared to handle it than official members of the Justice League, and he will return to duty as soon as I deem him fit enough.  Deathstroke did not change Robin.  When I trained him, I made sure that would never happen.  As someone who has seen Robin’s skills first hand, you should know that he is stronger than he appears.” Batman took a step forward as he talked, forcing her further away from the computer. She cursed silently.

“You’re the detective. You can’t blame me for questioning it and wanting to know more. All I know is the Robin that came back to the mountain was very different one that the Robin that left it.  Look, I want to help him too,” the words bit her tongue like acid. “I just want more information.”

“Robin is trustworthy. He is strong enough to not be affected by Deathstroke.  He hasn’t changed.”  How the hell was she supposed to get to that computer?

“He’s not a machine, Batman!” She said with a point of her finger, taking a forced step towards the computer. “Robin isn’t hard wires and unbreakable code like you are.”

She raised her fist to drop it on the computer dramatically. The camera was positioned just right. She could meet the time limit. She could save them. As her fist came down, it was abruptly stopped, caught in Batman’s fist.

“I know Robin far better than you ever will. And, I know exactly what your relationship with people like Deathstroke is so you dare talk to be about being _compromised_.” He shoved her hand down roughly, making her fumble back a few steps.  Her heart beat wildly in her chest. Even as Batman turned back to the computer, the animalistic rage in his eyes left her body paralyzed and heart beating wildly. The command to leave went unspoken.

Artemis took a few blind steps backwards. She had figured, if anyone would know about her past, it would be Batman.  But, she had never thought he would throw it in her face so bluntly.

From her pocket, a buzz pulled her from her stupor. Her blood went cold.  Artemis slowly went back to her room, the vibration in her pocket never stopping.  She shut the door, her mind numb, and forced herself to accept the incoming transmission.

“You failed me, Artemis.”

“Batman was there. He couldn’t let me get close enough to the only thing in the room I could have placed it on,” she said numbly.  “Please, _please_ don’t do this. I’ll put it up. I’ll do it.”

“That’s not how this works, Artemis. There’s always a price to be paid for failure.”

“No, don’t hurt them! You can’t!” She begged, tears starting to cloud her vision.

“I suggest you go spend some time with your teammates. You might not have another chance to see them together like this for a while.”

“No! No! Dammit, don’t do this!” She cried to no one. There was no response. It was too late. Pulling her legs to her chest, Artemis cried, the tears just one more thing she had no control over.


	17. The Bend and Snap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is in sight! I'm not sure on the exact chapter count yet, but there is an ending in existence. Most likely, I'll wrap up this arc and follow some of the subplot lines that were this fic in a second story to give them more room for development. Until then, however, more chapters!

Artemis’s heart was thundering in her ribcage, beating madly in a staccato rhythm.  Again, she had been used, and beaten, and left terrified for her loved ones. How did this keep happening? Her mind went back to the night she had spent curled against her mother on the kitchen floor, licking her wounds.  Was she really just destined to repeat this all over and over again?

_Get traught or get dead, Artemis._

She couldn’t keep losing control like this. She wouldn’t let people like her father or Slade take advantage of her. Never again.  Artemis felt her fists clench at her side.  Robin would never just give up on his friends. He would never sit back, throw up his hands, and let Slade have his way with them.

Think, Artemis! She demanded of herself. There had to be a way to help them, to save them from Slade. Her mind whirled – how the hell should she know what Slade was planning? Which one of them would he attack?

Attacking Connor would be risky, even for someone like Slade, she reasoned. Plus, he rarely ever left the mountain. Neither did Kaldur or M’gann for that matter.  Assuming he wouldn’t break into a base crawling with heroes, that left Wally or Robin. 

She chewed her lip harshly. Wally or Robin? Would Slade make a move on the speedster with loosely guarded secrets, or would he go after his apprentice a second time?  If he said he wanted to hurt them, would it really make any sense to hurt his apprentice? Artemis bit back a groan as she realized what she would have to do. It had to be Wally. He had to be going after Wally, and she was going to have to try and save him from one of the most terrifying assassins ever. 

Artemis pulled herself up, taking a breath and mentally readying herself for a long night.  Wally was going to owe her big time after this.

 

 

In the living room, Dick had wedged himself into the corner of the couch and was comfortably listening to M’gann talk about the cooking show she had started watching and all the recipes she wanted to try out.  He couldn’t keep a small smile off his face.  A while ago, Artemis had come back into the room, and this time sat within their circle. 

It felt so good to be together with his friends again, safe and relaxed. Wally interjected with a cheesy quip every so often and, even though all his jokes were pretty terrible, he let himself laugh. It felt good to laugh, like it had been too long since he had let go like this.

What was even better was Robin was _finally_ going to be able to get back out on the streets again. He was going to be out helping people and doing what he loved from the high wires above the city he promised to keep safe.   Yeah, things were finally getting back to normal.

The afternoon slipped quickly into the evening.  Canary had causally waived off practice for the day, saying team bonding was just as important. The team was currently about forty minutes into a game of monopoly, and his airplane and Wally’s shoe were currently in a bidding war over Connor’s Disney Land space.

“Dude, come on. Let me have Disney Land, and I’ll give you the White House,” Wally protested.

“No way, you know that’s not a fair trade. Besides, you’re just trying to ignore the fact that I can offer Connor way more than you can.  Maybe if you hadn’t wasted your money on Times Square you could afford to outbid me.”

“I don’t think Wally should have control of the White House,” Connor mumbled.

“No, no it’s just the property,” Wally explained, “so it’s totally cool to give it to me.”

Dick snickered and was about to make a retort when he saw the flicker of shadows at the edge of the room. His grin widened. _Finally_ , it was time.

“It looks like you’re going to have to give it to Wally, Con. I have to go.”

“Leaving for patrol? What time is it?” Wally asked aloud, fumbling for his phone. “Oh, guess it is late. Hey, first night back, right? Good luck, man!” He encouraged with a smile.

Dick flashed Wally a grin and a thumbs up. He didn’t need luck. Stepping around the board, he was about to slip out of the room when another voice stopped him.

“Be careful, Robin.” Turning, he saw it was Artemis who had called the warning. Which was definitely odd, but he shrugged it off.

“Sure thing, Artemis. This isn’t my first rodeo.” With that, he dashed to catch up with a waiting Batman.

“What’s a rodeo? I thought he was going on patrol,” Connor asked from the living room.

 

 

The moon was high as the Dynamic Duo sailed between the rooftops of Gotham. Every so often, Dick could feel Batman’s eyes watching and analyzing him, but he was too happy to really care.  Finally, Robin was back. As they rose higher onto one of their familiar patrol perches, Robin could feel his troubles rolling off his back with the wind. 

His own problems, his worries, his strife seemed so small in comparison to the vast city laid out at his feet. Somewhere, he knew, Slade was probably in the city. But, he was only one of the many people of Gotham, and Robin’s problems were only a blip on the radar. He had survived, and he was stronger than before. Just like every time before, he would rise up again to meet whatever challenge Gotham could throw at him.  Breathing in the night air, Robin felt the familiar feeling of Gotham, like pollution and bloodied fists, fill him. He loved everything about it.

“There’s a bank robbery on forty-four and Smith,” Batman intoned taking his finger off his comlink. “You ready?”

“I was _born_ ready.” 

Robin’s hair whipped wildly as he glided beside Batman to the crime scene. The two perched on a rooftop across the street, watching two goons loading bags into a waiting van. 

“Scanners say there’s two more inside in black with three hostages. I’ll take the ones out front, you go around the back and get the hostages. People haven’t seen Robin in a while so they won’t be expecting you.”

“You got it, bossman.”  Batman let out an amused breath as Robin launched himself towards the bank with a cackled that felt natural. 

In another moment, Robin had landed on the roof unnoticed. It only took him a moment to find a vent opening on the side of the building. With a nod to Batman, he slipped inside. 

He wasn’t nervous, Dick had done this a hundred times before, but his heart still quickened at the thrill of hero work.  Even as he crawled through the dusty, cobwebbed vent, there was something about this kind of thing that felt right. Like he was meant to be a hero.  Slade would never have his apprentice, he thought with a triumphant smile.

“Please, you can take the money! Just leave us alone.”

“Yeah right, and leave you to call the cops? I don’t think so.” Robin slowed as the voices from below grew louder.  Poking his head through the grate he saw two men with guns -- one skinny and gruff the other tall and fat – standing over two figures bound at the wrist and ankles. Upon closer inspection, he saw the kneeling man and woman were employees, indicated by the name badges they were still wearing.

“Look man, I just started here,” the female hostage argued warily. “I just do paperwork and lock up.  I don’t have any alliances or anything. I can swear that I won’t tell anyone.” Impressively, she kept her voice steady, but Robin could still see the tremble in her lip.  They all knew how robberies in Gotham ended – more often with body bags than with arrests. The man was older, perhaps nearing retirement in a few years, and he kept quiet.  He looked almost like he had accepted whatever fate the robbers would give him.

Robin felt his brow furrow. There was only two hostages – where was the third one?

“Batman,” he whispered into his com. “There’s only two hostages in the main room. I need you to hold off until I can find the third one.” 

“Hurry up, they’ll be done soon.” 

He didn’t waste another second, pushing himself deeper into the vent system, checking each room as quickly as he could.  He hostages might be safe for now, but there was no guarantee what these B-list criminals would do afterwards. 

A grunt made Robin turn and dart (as much as one could dart while in a ventilation shaft, anyways) towards a room in the far west corner of the bank, back towards the private offices.  Out of habit, Robin slipped a batarang into his hand as he peered down into the room below.

Beneath him, were two figures, a man dressed in black robber’s garb and a woman pressed against the wall, their bodies forced together and their fingers laced. Robin’s eyes widened.

“God Nancy, you’re so beautiful when you’re being clever,” the man whispered in a breathy voice. 

“Soon, I’ll be clever _and_ rich,” the woman replied coyly.

“ _We’ll_ be rich, in a few hours we can leave this damned city forever.”  The man paused to forcefully cover her lips with his own.  “And it’ll all be because of your wonderful plan. I mean, really, staging a robbery at your workplace is genius.  Getting into the vault was a breeze, and if the cops ask you can always just say you got spooked into spilling the password. I swear, Nancy, as soon as we get out of here I’m going to make you my wife.”

“Don’t be so loud. Someone’s going to hear you. We really should be with the others, anyways.”

“We have two guys loading a _van-full_ of cash. We have more than a minute…”

As Robin watched their lips meet again, watched the man press himself over the woman with a greedy hunger, he felt his stomach turn.

_“You’ll learn to like it.”_ Dick swallowed as Slade’s voice purred in his ear. His lips buzzed where the man had pressed them.

_No._ No, he had job to do. People were depending on him now. He couldn’t afford to slip into the past again. He clenched his fists tightly. Even so, he could feel his heart rate start to flutter, and his breath rate start to shorten.

“Robin, they’re almost done. I can’t wait any longer, moving in now. Secure the hostages, _now_.”

Come on, Grayson! Focus! Put it behind you, and _move_ , he chastised himself. Slade would not stop Robin from being a hero. Not now, not ever again. Positioning himself over the vent above the main room, he waited for his cue.

“It’s the Bat!” Came the call from the goons outside. Below, Robin watched the two guard’s faces turn from one of mild boredom to one of shock.

“Batman! Jamie said this gig would be too small for Batman! He’s not supposed to be here.”

Showtime, Robin thought as he let out a cackle. “Neither was I!” He shouted dropping directly on top of the skinny goon.  With a firm elbow strike to the temple, the man was out before he knew what hit him.

“Little brat!” Shouted the larger one, reaching for his weapon. But, he was slow. Far too slow for someone who had been trained by both the world’s greatest detective and the most feared assassin. The guy really didn’t stand a chance.

Whipping out his batarang, Robin watched it zip through the air and land perfectly between the man’s first two knuckles, making his hand spasm.  It gave him just enough time to leap through the air and bring his heel smashing against the man’s jaw.  Robin could feel the bone break beneath his foot. The man staggered to the side. He had to act now, before the man got his bearings back and remembered that he still had a 9 mm pistol in his pocket. 

In an instant, Robin had slipped out and lengthened his bo staff. The man was just starting to right himself when Robin turned the end of the rod to meet his knee, sending him crashing to the ground with a cry.  He spun the bo around with expert handling and sent it again to crack against the back of his head, and the huge man went still. 

“Oh my god…” the woman whispered.

“It’s ok, I’ll get you out of here in a moment,” he said reassuringly, stooping down to cut her free.  He had cut her hands when the click of a gun made him freeze.

In the hall stood the two lovers, the robber with a confident smirk behind Nancy who was pointing a gun at his head.  “I don’t think so, Boy Wonder,” she cooed. “In fact, you’re not going to be leaving this bank ever again.”

“Nancy?” The man behind her whispered, “Don’t hurt him. Batman’s still here…somewhere.”

The guy was right, Robin thought. Batman should have taken his two down in a moment, yet he was nowhere to be seen. Of course, Robin thought with a sigh. This was another one of his tests.

“That’s fine,” she said slowly before shifting her aim to the old man still tied on the other side of Robin. “I’m sure you would avoid it anyways. But, _he_ can’t.  You wouldn’t want the little old man to get hurt would you?”

“Let him go,” he growled dangerously.

“No. Here’s what’s going to happen,” she said, her voice growing more confident as she walked towards the old man until the gun was right up against his temple.  He needed to play his cards carefully if this night was going to go his way. “Vinny, come hold my glock, would you dear?”

Her lover’s face changed from confidence to one of confusion as he shot Robin a nervous glance before taking the gun. It never wavered more than an inch from the old man, whom had his eyes wrenched tightly shut.

“You, Robin, are going to put your hands on your head where we can see them and you’re going to sit there nice and pretty until my Vinny and I are far away from here with the old man.  And, if you wait too long, Vinny is going to put a bullet in this old coot’s brain. Got it, dear?”

He grit his teeth, but slowly obeyed. In his mind, Robin could imagine his plan folding out.  He could see the hesitation in Vinny’s eyes. The moment the lady let her guard down, he could take her down and fire a batarang to knock the gun from the man’s hand. It was a textbook style escape – Batman would be, well, not _happy_ … but pleased.

The plan was simple, perfect even. He could see it in his mind. That is, until the woman stepped forward, leaned slowly down and ran a hand down his cheek. Dick felt his mind go blank.

_“You’re so cute on your knees, Bluebird.”_

_His breath hitched._

_Don’t move, don’t even breathe. The way Slade’s tongue wrapped around that word… There was something about it that made him go numb. Something that twitched in the back of his mind that made everything fade away. All that was left was a need to simply not exist for these next few moments, to just get out of his own head and be anywhere but here. It only ever lasted a few moments, and only happened a few times.  It was so strange, but nothing ever came of it.  Eventually, he found that he could do it on his own– let himself to dissociate to a mental state where he wouldn’t have to think or hurt or feel anymore. All he had to do was flip the switch and let Slade have his way_.

“Robin?”

_But, that was the problem with spacing out. Slade always noticed and pulled him out of it.  Maybe this time he could stay locked in his own mind. There was noise and things moving around him, but Dick refused to acknowledge them. Just stay still, he told himself. Just let him do what he wants, and it will all be over soon._

“Robin! Snap out of it!”

_No, no just a little longer…_ But, a sharp pain across his cheek pulled him unwillingly back to reality.  Batman was kneeling in front of him, and why were his hands laced on top of his head? _Oh no,_ Dick thought as he realized he had just blacked himself out. In the middle of a _hostage situation._   That would explain why Batman looked furious.

“W-what happened?” He asked softly, untwisting his numbed fingers.

“I handled it. We’re leaving, _now_.”  Robin stood obediently and realized the room was empty.

“Where are the hostages? The old man? Th-the guards they were here, out cold.”

“I _said_ I took care of it. The hostages are safe, the robbers are in custody.”

Outside of the bank were two cop cars, and Dick could see the shadows of people in the backseat. As he followed Batman, zip lining back to the rooftops, he raked his mind. How could he have just blacked out like that? When people were depending on him.  If not for Batman… Dick felt his gut wrench horribly. That guy could have died, and it would have been all his fault.

“What happened,” Batman growled as soon as their feet touched the roof.

“I- I don’t know. I had everything planned out. I…” He heard himself stammering, Batman getting angrier by the minute.

“That should have been _easy_.”

“I know, _I know_. It won’t happen again. I’m getting better, I swear. Please, please let me stay as Robin. Please, don’t kick me off patrol. I need this.”  This was his purpose. This is what made him strong. He couldn’t stand to be benched, not when he had just gotten back on his feet.

“You need more training. Whatever that was is unacceptable in the field. You know that. I can’t work with a partner I have to worry about going AWOL on me.”

“Please. I can do it. Just trust me.”

“Go home.”

“Bruce, please. Just give me another chance.”

“I _said_ , go _home_.”

Dick felt his face fall. There was no arguing. He had one shot, and he blew it.  Without another word, Dick turned and leapt from the roof back towards Wayne manor.  This time as he swung from roof to roof he didn’t feel like he was above the city. No, he wasn’t any better off than the rest of the city. He was just as troubled as everyone else, and not even Robin could shield him from that.


	18. Trust and Fall

Batman watched his ward swing from the Gotham skyline with an elegance that came effortlessly.  A small voice in the back of his head wondered if he was making the right decision by sending him away.

It was true the boy seemed to be in a much better state of mind in his Robin suit than he had in weeks. But, he never would have guessed the kid would just freeze like that. In all his years of crime fighting, something he had been doing since the age of nine, Dick had never frozen up before. 

He had waited patiently from the sidelines, waiting for Dick to finish the mission like he had been trained. Yet, the instant that woman touched his face, something had changed. And it terrified Bruce to see.  Dick just stopped moving.

It was an amateur move, going blank in the heat of the fight. It was a _dangerous_ move, one that could easily have gotten both him and the hostages killed if he hadn’t stopped them on the way out the door.  No, there was no way he could risk bringing Dick into the field if there was even a ghost of a chance that would ever happen again.  The slight improvement brought on by donning the suit was far outweighed by the safety risks.

As the night wore on, Batman made his usual rounds, not quite able to push his concern for Dick to the back of his mind. It was a little after one when he decided to cut his patrol short. If his mind refused to focus on anything other than Dick, he might as well put the line of thought to good use.

It only took a few moments to get to Colin Bosworth’s apartment block. For a moment, he considered actually using the front door, just to change things up. But, he quickly decided against it. Instead, he stealthily peered inside to see Bosworth sitting on his bed, his daughter Eileen fast asleep on his lap.  Lighting silently on the balcony he moved to rap on the glass door when Bosworth saw him and jerked in surprise.

“Batman!” Came his startled call.  The sudden movement forced his daughter awake in an instant.  Her wide brown eyes opened and quickly scanned the room until they came to rest on him.

“Daddy! It’s Batman! Batman’s here!” She cried with a bright smile.  “You said he’d come, and he _did_.”  Bosworth seemed to be stunned into a stupor at his sudden presence, but Eileen excitedly pushed herself off the bed and moved to open the door.

“Eileen wait,” Bosworth started, fear for her safety calling him to action. 

“Hello, Batman!” She called, throwing open the door anyways.

“Hello, Eileen.” He replied, doing his best to keep the growl out of his voice.

She squealed in response. “Dad, Batman knows my name!  Batman, I drew a picture of you -- I’ll go get it!” She shot out of the room, still grinning ear to ear.

“I told her you might come, and she’s been, well, idolizing you ever since. You’re her favorite hero.”

“She’s not angry that I couldn’t get to her soon enough?” He wondered aloud.

“She’s happy that there _are_ heroes.” Bosworth drew himself up, standing confidently before him as few civilians ever had while he was in uniform.  “Look, if you’re going to talk to her about her time with that _monster_ , let me be clear. The minute she gets wants to be done, you _leave_.”

He nodded. Not how he would like to go about getting his information, but he’d comply.  In that moment, Eileen came rushing back into the room, clutching an armful of papers. “Look, look!” She said, presenting him one paper after another. “Here’s you and me. And here’s you fighting bad guys. And here’s you and Robin. And this one is--”

“Eileen, those are very nice, but I need to talk to you about something important, alright?” He said carefully, kneeling down to look her in the eye. It some something Alfred had recommended when talking to Dick in his first few days at the manor. “I need to talk to you about when you were with Deathstroke. Is that all right?”

The little girl’s face fell. “The black and orange man?” Bosworth instantly moved to place a hand on her shoulder, and she curled into him instantly. “Ok, Batman,” she said softly. 

“I need to know about what you saw and heard while there. This is very important to me. You’re going to help a lot of people by telling me what you know.”

“Like a hero?”

“Exactly.” Eileen nodded and, after a reassuring glance to her father, began to speak.

“I didn’t see much. I was in one room the whole time. It just had a mattress and a toilet and it was really cold.”

“Your father said you could hear someone else in the haunt besides the man in black and orange. Can you tell me about that?”

She nodded. “I think it was a boy. He talked with the man a lot, sometimes they were loud enough in the other rooms that I could hear them. But, they didn’t talk much. It was just a lot of grunting and there were hitting sounds. The man would sometimes say stuff like ‘do it again’ or ‘that’s not good enough.’ He wasn’t very nice to the boy either. I think I heard the man call him Richard.”

“What else can you tell me about Richard?” Batman forced his voice to remain steady. This was it, after searching for so long this girl could tell him what happened.

“He came to visit me sometimes. He was really upset that the man brought me here, but he said he couldn’t let me out. He apologized for that a lot.  Sometimes, he would bring me food and sometimes he would just come and talk. Richard told me stories about you sometimes. Those were my favorite.

“I don’t think he wanted to be there either. I think his room was close to mine ‘cuz I could hear him at night. He would cry sometimes. Sometimes, it sounded like the man was hurting him.” Bosworth hugged her tighter, whispering comforting things in her ear.

“Did you ever hear anything the man was planning? Did he say anything about missions or things he was going to do? People or places he mentioned?”

“Um…There was this one time. There was a third person I had never heard before, a man with an accent.  I didn’t hear his name. They were talking about Richard I think. They were going down the hall I was in, and I heard them talking about making him ‘more willing.’  The man asked the other guy if he thought this work, and he said ‘I guarantee after I am finished, you’ll have your perfect apprentice. He’ll be perfectly obedient to every command while never realizing what he’s doing.”

“Are you sure that’s what they said?”

“I remember,” the girl whispered. “Because after that, I heard the man bring Richard down the hall. They went further away where I couldn’t hear but… but then I heard him _screaming_.” She sniffed as tears started to well up. “It was awful.”

“What happened after that? What else did you hear?”

“I-I don’t know. Richard talked to me later that night, and I asked him if he was ok. But, he didn’t know what I was talking about. I said I heard him, but he said he had the day off today. He didn’t know what I meant. But, I heard him. I don’t know why he was pretending... I heard him, Batman.”

“He didn’t remember?”

“Nu-uh. He didn’t talk to me again, and the man took me home the next day.”

“Do you remember anything else, Eileen? Anything at all?”

“The man with the accent said something as he left, something about needing meeting up with a friend, someone named L-La something. I…I don’t remember.”

“Malalah? Was that it?”                              

“Y-yeah. I think so.”  Batman drew himself up, brow furrowed. Malalah, the enhanced ape was the close associate of the Brain. But, Robin never mentioned the Brain as one of the people who visited the Haunt. If the Brain was working with Slade, this could be far messier than he initially thought. He didn’t want to think about what this would mean if the Brain had possibly messed with Robin’s mind.

However, a lead was a lead, and he knew he could the Brain give up information on Slade. This was a step closer to bringing in Deathstroke. He was sure of it.

“Thank you, Eileen. You’ve helped me a lot.”

“You’re welcome, Batman.”

“Why don’t you say goodnight to Batman, ok sweetheart? Go to bed, I’ll be there in a minute.” The girl sleepily obeyed and, with a tired goodbye, left the room.  “I thought Robin was the one who was good with kids.”

“I’ve had some practice.”  He paused, before continuing. “She seems like she’s doing well.”

Boswell sighed. “Not enough practice, I see. That’s the thing with trauma like this. It comes and goes. Some days are worse than others. Sometimes things set her off, and I don’t know what it is but suddenly were right back to square one.”

“What do you do then?”  The question slipped out.  Boswell paused, shooting him a look like he couldn’t believe Batman just asked him that. “You do what you can. Be patient, listen to what they say they say they need.”

“What if what they say they want isn’t what they need?”

He just shrugged at that, “If there’s something my little girl wants, I make sure to do my damnedest to give it to her.  I don’t know what’s going through her mind half the time. You just have to trust them.”

“She’s only a child.”

“And, I would give her the world if I could. But, I can’t so I give her the next best thing. I give her all the love and attention I can.”

Batman was silent for a moment, letting the father’s words sink in.  “She’s a strong kid.”

“She has a lot of spirit and a good heart.  I’ve always thought that a good heart can get through even the worst of times.”

“I think you’re right.”

Bosworth leaned down to pick up the forgotten drawings. “I know I asked you this before, but do you have kids?”  As he turned to Batman, he realized no one was there. A lone batarang lay on the floor where he had been moments before.

As Batman made his way home, he thought about what Bosworth had said, turning the words over and over in his mind.  Perhaps the man had the right idea. His time spent chasing after Slade was time hadn’t been spending time with Dick, and maybe that had been a mistake.  Maybe letting Dick try again as Robin, under _close_ supervision, wouldn’t be so bad if that’s what he needed. Maybe he could be a better guardian to the boy. Dick deserved it, at the very least.

The batcave was silent as he entered and shed his armor, becoming Bruce Wayne again. Maybe he hadn’t spent enough time as Bruce lately, he thought.  As he slowly made his way up to the manor, a familiar weariness seemed to settle in his bones. A break might be good for the both of them, some ‘bonding time’ as Alfred liked to call it. The manor seemed far too quiet.

Slipping through the halls, he made his way to Dick’s bedroom. He knew the boy would probably be asleep, but he felt the need to check on him. To see the boy he had raised and run his hands through his hair.  Bruce paused for a moment outside Dick’s door. The last time he had come to Dick’s room, the boy had freaked out and insisted he leave. Bruce, however, shook it off. If he was going to be there for Dick, he would have to keep trying.

Opening the door as quietly as possible, Bruce stuck his head inside and was surprised to find that the room was empty. Not only that, but the room seemed somewhat disorganized. A few books had been pulled from the shelf and left haphazardly on the bed. The covers were overturned as if he had been searching under the bed for something. It wasn’t messy, but it was certainly unusual for Dick’s preferences. Scanning the room further, he saw a note left on the dresser.

_Bruce,_

_I’m sorry about tonight and not watching. Went outside for a quick run.  The way things have been lately between us have been bugging me, and I think they’ve been bugging you too.  I’ve been talking some with Wally.  He said we should try a second time to get thing right between us.  What I’m trying to say is, I can’t do this alone. I can do better, but right now I need you._

Bruce swallowed as he read the note a second time, then a third.  The ulterior message unfolding easily before his eyes. It was a simple code. Dick must not have had time to come up with something more complex. That, or he had been too nervous to think straight.

I’m being watched. Had to run. We’ve been bugged. Wally. Second. The intersection of West Avenue and Second Street. The building on the east side. I need you.

Bruce’s eyes darted to the clock on the wall. It was nearing morning. How long ago had Dick written the message? How long had he been waiting? One thing was clear. Deathstroke had finally come out of hiding to make his move. 

Every fiber screamed at him to run to his son, but Bruce forced himself to walk. If Deathstroke was watching, he couldn’t afford to tip him off.

“That boy,” he mumbled aloud. “Running in the middle of the night in _Gotham_.  Going to get himself killed. Or pneumonia at the very least…”

Please, please be all right, he begged silently.  Going back to his office he quickly flipped through the cameras in the house. Alfred was soundly asleep. Thank heavens Deathstroke didn’t seem interested in him.  Bruce hesitated before using the clock entrance again. Dick had said Slade knew his secret identity, but that had never been his real goal. Still, Bruce was hesitant to enter the batcave knowing he was possibly being watched.  Was he being watched now?

No, Dick’s safety came first. Pushing every other thought aside, he turned the hands of the clock and slipped inside the secret entryway.   Let Deathstroke think whatever he wanted. If he wanted to mess with his son, he would have to face the consequences. 

Bruce donned the Bat-suit faster than he ever had and grabbed the fastest motorcycle he had in his arsenal. Revving the engine, he shot out of the cave like a bullet, zooming back into the early hours of a city still shrouded in darkness. 

This was _his_ city. That was _his_ son. Bruce grit his teeth as a feral growl escaped his throat.  Deathstroke’s power over his family ended tonight.


	19. Enter the Ringmaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, we're nearing the end! So, this update will only be one (albeit extended) chapter. There are two more parts until the thrilling conclusion. So, the next updates be simply those respective parts, and they'll be however long they end up being. In other notes, I'll try to update within a week as has always been my goal with this fic, but I cannot guarantee it. Especially with the length of these updates and other personal responsibilities. That being said, I will do my best.  
> Thank you to everyone reading this fic and sticking with me until the end. All your encouraging comments are sincerely appreciated, and I'm so glad to have made something people are enjoying. The ending is going to be worth the wait, I promise!

How did it all go so wrong? Better question, when was the last time things went _right_ in Artemis’s life? 

Robin had left the mountain a few minutes ago, and she hadn’t been able to stop herself from calling out a word of warning. Hopefully he would take her uncharacteristic outburst to heart and take extra caution tonight. Then again, Artemis reminded herself, he was with _Batman_.  That had to be about as safe as it got.  She, on the other hand, was so massively unsafe at the moment it took everything she had to keep up a semi-normal image.  In an act of impressive self-control, she was able to keep her nervous hair touching to a minimum.

As her small team continued their game (she was hopelessly losing at this point with even Connor having a leg up on her), her mind was running a hundred miles an hour thinking about what in the world she was going to do when a world class _assassin_ came for Wally’s _head_. She didn’t want to even begin to think what Slade had in mind. Whatever it was, Artemis could guarantee it was bad news. 

“Kaldur, I want to exchange all my money into the smallest bills we have,” Wally said suddenly to Kaldur, who was playing the banker. The older boy shot Wally an odd look.

“I suppose, but may I ask why?”

“I’m going to have a monopoly on the thousand-dollar bills and then I’ll charge all of you to make change! I can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner. Go ahead and say it. I’m a genius.”

“I don’t think that is how the game is supposed to be played…” Kaldur replied softly, not taking the money in Wally’s outstretched hand.

Artemis bit back a groan.  And she was the only one standing between this idiot and a guy who goes by _Deathstroke the Terminator_.  Basically, she was screwed.  Of course, she had no choice but to try, but oh man she wasn’t looking forward to this.

The game wore on and with the passing time, Artemis felt herself becoming more and more agitated.

_Artemis?_ She felt M’gann’s voice nudge silently in her mind.  Dammit, why did they have to have a freaking mind reader on the team? Didn’t they know she had secrets?

Swallowing, Artemis realized she had choice before her.  First, she could tell M’gann it was nothing then go along with her original plan to come up with an excuse to follow Wally home. That way she could be there if an international assassin just happened to come to his home.  Odd -- yes. Awkward -- _oh yeah_. But, doing so wouldn’t necessarily lead anyone to know what she had done. She could remain safe with her teammate’s trust intact. Second choice, she could let M’gann know, let them _all_ know, and get some actual backup for Wally.  It would ruin her reputation with the team, probably permanently. She’d be kicked out, alienated from the league, and left at the mercy of her harsh reality without any protection. 

Artemis needed this team more than anything. But, Wally needed their help more. His life was on the line, and, no matter what they would say about her after this, she was a _hero_.

Her hand brushed the circular communicator in her pocket. If she was going to do this (oh someone help her, she was actually going to do this) she had to do it right.  The camera hidden in the couch was still watching.  If Deathstroke even got a hint she was pitting the team against him, he’d surely double his efforts. Or worse, she could be presenting the entire team to him on a silver platter for him to do with as he pleased. 

No, if all of them were working together surely they could beat him, or at the very least drive him away.  They had faced enough challenges together for Artemis to know they could handle it. They could do it, she was certain of it.  Now, all she had to do was confess.  M’gann was waiting patiently just at the edge of her consciousness.

_M’gann…I guess you noticed something was up._

_You’ve seemed worried all evening. Is everything all right?_

She mentally sighed.  _No, it’s not. I have something I need to tell everyone. But… no one can outwardly react when I do._

_What do you mean? Did something happen?_

_Yeah. I’ve done something, something really terrible. I didn’t want to do it, but I didn’t have a choice. I… and now someone else is going to pay the price, and I can’t sit by and watch anymore._

_I’m not sure I understand, are you ok?_

_Can you link us all up, M’gann? I think everyone needs to hear this._

Artemis held her breath as she felt four more streams of consciousness connect with hers.

_Listen guys, I need you all to continue playing like nothing happened. Whatever you do, you can’t let on that we’re talking._

_Why do I get the feeling you’re going to tell us something really bad?_ Wally asked, half sarcastically and half nervously.

_Because Deathstroke is watching us, and I’m pretty sure he’s going to try to attack Wally tonight.  In her mind, she felt her team’s sudden alarm._

_Artemis, you must explain. How do you know this?_ Came Kaldur’s stead thought as he calmly made is turn in the game.

_Deathstroke… threatened my family. Put me and my mom in danger.  He… made me put up a camera in this room. I was supposed to put up a second one in the training room, but I couldn’t do it fast enough. I…I’m so sorry. He said there was a price to be paid for failure, and I think he’s going to go after Wally when he gets home tonight._

There was a stunned sort of silence over the link, before it seemed to erupt with emotions. Fear, anger, betrayal, and panic.  Outwardly, Connor traded properties with Artemis. They caught each other’s eyes and, as they did, and he didn’t quite hide the rage in his eyes.

_I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t have a choice._

_Why did you not tell us sooner? Perhaps we could have helped your family? Kaldur asked._

_You couldn’t have helped us. But, I know together we can help Wally now. I didn’t tell because I was afraid you’d find out about my messed up family that I don’t want to be a part of. I was terrified you’d all stop trusting me, and that I’d lose the only safe family I’ve ever known._   Artemis wasn’t sure if they could feel the longing, the desperation she was trying to communicate.  Was there even any point in trying to make them understand now? It was all over for her now, and that feeling brought an awful ache to the pit of her stomach. _But, none of that matters now. I need you to help me protect Wally. M’gann can show you whatever memories you want to see, it’s all true. None of my stupid secrets matter now. What’s important now is helping Wally._

_Look, I’m having a hard time grasping any of this,_ Wally said _, I want proof._

She felt M’gann gently press into her mind.  _Go ahead, look at whatever you want._

The memory started with Deathstroke’s voice over the communicator, promising to hurt one of them. It went back, her attempt to place the camera in the training room, then her putting the camera in the couch. M’gann reached back further to Deathstroke’s threat on her family.

“I will go out of my way to permanently leave my mark on your friends and family. Starting with your Young Justice friends, working my way to your mother. I will go as far as to kill them if I have to, and not even the Justice League will be able to stop me.” Deathstroke’s memory hissed.

M’gann reached further into that awful conversation in the warehouse, finding Deathstroke’s statement that Robin had in fact killed, saying he was a traitor to all of them.  Back up again to a few days earlier, her and her mother curled together on the kitchen floor while her ribs smarted and her heart pounded.  Then, the moment she decided to trust Robin.  The last memory M’gann pulled was her team, back when they were all together, in the bioship after one of their last missions, laughing over something.  She remembered feeling so happy, like she belonged with them.  Her eyes had grazed over the team, landing on Wally, and something in her heart had stirred. There was a feeling of hope, happiness, and family mixed with the feeling of regret at how long it had been since she had felt those things. 

_Whoa_ , came Wally’s response as M’gann pulled out of her memories.

_Is it true? Is Robin a murderer?_ Conner asked.

_It seems unwise to trust Deathstroke’s word,_ Kaldur responded.

_Is your mom safe? Are you alright?_ M’gann asked softly, her voiced laced with heartfelt concern.

_We’re all right,_ she said. _We’re always alright.  But, now you know everything that happened. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner._

_I believe…_ Kaldur started slowly, _you made the right decision in telling us now.  I realize now you felt as though you had much to lose in your confession.  Telling the truth, especially against such obstacles, I think is a courageous thing. I will not waste time debating as a group on what should be done with this information when Wally’s safety is at stake. However, as far as I am concerned, I do forgive you, Artemis._

_I can see it in your mind,_ M’gann added. _I know you were confused, but you really were only trying to do what you thought was best to keep everyone safe.  Deathstroke forced you to do something evil, but your heart is still good. You’re still a hero, Artemis. I know you are worried about your place on the team, but I think this is where you belong._

_I don’t think I understand it, but I don’t really care. If this guy is bad enough to hurt Artemis and now he’s trying to hurt Wally, we need stop talking and do something about it,_ Connor said _._

_What if I just stayed here at the mountain and avoid this whole assassin-wants-to-hurt-Wally thing all together?_

_He’d know,_ Artemis stated _. He’d know I told you and then he’d do something even worse, I’m sure of it.  Whatever we do, we can’t let him know I told you guys anything.  He still thinks he has the upper hand._

_What we need is a plan,_ came Kaldur’s steady voice _._

_I think I have one,_ Artemis said _.  Slade doesn’t think of me as a threat. I say we finish the game, and I go with Wally. You all wait a while before following in the bioship. You’ll have to make it seem like you’ve all left or gone to your rooms for the night and, whatever you do, do not let the camera see you._

_This sounds like a decent plan, I have no argument with it,_ Kaldur said with a hum as he took his turn in the game _. Team? Are you prepared for this?_

_Yes, M’gann responded immediately with determination._

_Let’s go get his guy, Conner said in a low growl._

_No. Absolutely not,_ said Wally. _But, fuck it, let’s do it anyways._

_We can beat him together,_ reassured Artemis, surprising herself some as the words came easily. _I know we can._

_Alright then, let’s do it,_ Kaldur said, standing up.  “I believe I have had enough of this game for the night, seeing as how we do not seem to be nearing an ending anytime soon.”

“I agree,” added M’gann with a yawn. “Plus, I have cheer practice tomorrow.  Maybe we can play again some other time?”

Connor shook his head, “Count me out. I hate things like this that just drag on. Next time, I want a game with an ending.”

“I dunno, Con,” said Wally as he reluctantly pulled himself up. “Endings suck.”  He looked around the room, and Artemis could see the subtle fear in his eyes.  She wanted to reassure him out loud, but knew that was impossible.  I’m scared too, she wanted to say. “But, I guess Kaldur is right. I’ll call it a night too.”

“Have a good night, Wally,” M’gann called as she made her way back into the mountain, throwing him one last glance.

  
“Night, Mega-licious.” His teasing seemed half-hearted even to Artemis.

“Hey, Wally,” Artemis started, trying not to sound strained, “I actually need to run an errand for GA in Star City, you mind if I follow you?” Maybe she sounded a little too nice.

“I guess… Fartimis,” Wally added with a grin. She rolled her eyes.

“Later, guys,” she called as she followed Wally towards the zeta. Here goes nothing…

 

As the blue light died and Central City came into view, Artemis felt her heart rate rise with dread at the fight she knew she was willingly walking into. 

“So... what do you think Rob is up to?” Wally asked after a few tense minutes of silence.

She shrugged, “Probably swinging along Gotham’s high rise.”  Wally nodded mutely and she could practically feel the tension. For as worried as she was, he had to be terrified. “You know,” she started, desperate to fill the silence and take their minds off what lay waiting for them, “when I was younger I thought Batman and Robin were the coolest. Sometimes, I would stay up late just staring out the window to try and catch a glimpse of them. Just the idea that there were these two people out there fighting the good fight was… I don’t know… kinda _inspiring_.”

When Wally didn’t respond, she turned to find him grinning ear to ear like the idiot he was. “So, you’re saying you were a Batman _fangirl_?”

“No! That’s not what I said at all. I just meant… _ugh_ , you’re the worst.”

Wally only laughed in response. “So, what do you think of the Dynamic Duo now?”

Her face scrunched up. “Respectively? Dense and annoying.”  He laughed again. It was a clear, almost carefree kind of sound. She couldn’t help smiling when she heard it.

The conversation seemed to flow easily from there. That is, until they reached a quiet house and Wally slowed to a stop.

“Well. This is it,” he said softly. She knew what he was thinking. Was Deathstroke in there now? Did he have family? Were they ok? Could they really do this?  Without thinking, Artemis reached out her hand to squeeze his for a brief moment.

It seemed to break Wally out of his trance, and he led her into the house.  He open the door and called out with a smile, like nothing was wrong. “Aunt Iris, I’m home! I have a friend with me.”

“Hello there!” A woman’s voice called from inside the house. “Dinner’s waiting in the fridge, heat it up whenever you two want.”  Wally seemed to let out a sigh at hearing her sounding all right.

“I guess… Um, I can show you upstairs?” Wally said awkwardly.

“Sure,” she said with a shrug. What better way to kill the time while waiting for an assassin to attack? “So, you live with your aunt?” Wally seemed to tense at that.

“Uh, yeah. Home life wasn’t that great.”

She nodded. “I know how that goes.” Wally caught her eye, and she saw a glimmer of understanding she hadn’t seen in anyone else before. 

Wally led her upstairs to a bedroom and, before opening, apologetically said, “Sorry for the mess..” before showing her a room that looked like a bomb went off inside.  The whole area was collections of piles of things left half-forgotten from bags of chips to open books.

“Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

Wally opened his mouth to retort but was cut off by the click of a receiving communicator.

“A disorganized room is often a trait of people who are overwhelmingly unprepared to handle change.”  Wally’s face drained of color as Deathstroke’s voice came from the communicator in Artemis’s pocket.  “Artemis, this is quite an interesting decision on your behalf. Fruitless, but interesting all the same.  Now, if you would give the communicator to Wallace I have something I want to be certain he hears.”

With a steadying breath, she removed the communicator and gave it to Wally, who took it numbly.

“Good girl.” Wally’s eyes widened as he realized there was no way Deathstroke could have known she did what he asked unless he was watching. Unless there were cameras _in his room_.  “Now, Wallace, you know who I am, correct?”

“Yes,” he said tersely. 

“Good. Then, you know what I am capable of. It wasn’t my intention to let you know of Artemis’s involvement with me, but she seems to have a knack for complicating things, and who am I to deny her? You see, your friend Artemis has been helping me out somewhat recently. At least, until she failed to comply, and I said I intended on hurting a teammate as punishment. Now, here she is, trying to protect you. You must feel so clever, Artemis, like you have this all figured out. Do you really think you can stop me?”

“I won’t let you hurt my friends.”

“My dear, you of all people don’t even know who your friend _are_.”

“I know you’re not one of them.  My teammates are my friends. I trust them.”

“That’s cute, Artemis. Let’s be realistic, Artemis. Do you think you can protect them? From _me_? Do you even know what you’re trying to protect?”

“Young Justice will protect the people you think you can just hurt without consequences!” Wally butt in, “You have no right, and we will fight you for them every single time.”

“I take it you didn’t believe me when I said your youngest teammate was a killer?”

“Of course not,” Artemis affirmed. “Why would be believe you?”

“Why indeed?  You know only my reputation. Not my name. Not my face. Not my history. You have nothing to place your trust in.”

“Exactly!” Wally practically shouted. “That’s – _oh_.” He fumbled, realizing what Slade was implying. “Robin isn’t like you! He never will be!”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Wallace.”  Slade’s voice said over the communicator. Artemis could almost hear his snide smile.  “So _very_ wrong.  However, unlike Robin, I know when to show my hand. Robin, also known as Richard Grayson, is directly responsible for the murder of a woman named Ariana DeLauro, an arms dealer working under one of Gotham’s largest sellers, Diane Rothschild.  Her time of death was precisely two twelve just outside warehouse eleven on Quinten Avenue. Cause of death was a bullet directly in the center of her forehead.”

Artemis was stunned into silence. Dick _Grayson_ was Robin? Robin was a killer? Deathstroke’s words swam around her head but none of it made any _sense_.

“Yeah right!” Wally sniffed, “You probably killed her and blamed it on Robin. You can’t prove it.”

“On the contrary. The surveillance video is in the police locker. Not clear enough to see his face, of course, but clear enough for someone familiar with Robin’s stature to be obvious.”

We’ll laugh about this later, he had said, she remembered.  She hadn’t even guessed.

“You’re a liar! You disgusting criminal – you’re going to pay for what you did to Robin!” Wally roared into the communicator. “We’re going to take you down! I’m going to make sure of it, and I’ll make you regret ever _looking_ at him!”

“You don’t even know where I _am_.”

“Come out and _fight me_ , you coward!” Wally was yelling now, his face red and contorted with rage.

Deathstroke’s low, almost haunting chuckle crackled over the communicator. “Oh, of _course_ , Wallace. I’ll be right over.”

“Good! Because the minute I see you I’m going to kick your ass! Do you hear me?”  There came no reply. Wally let out a frustrated growl, clenching his fists so tight she thought he was going to break the communicator in half.  “I’m going to stop him. He’s going to _pay_.  People like him… people who think they can just do whatever they want to whoever they want are disgusting filth. They _have_ to pay.”

Artemis bit her lip. She agreed, but was challenging Deathstroke to a brawl really the smartest move? No, it couldn’t be.  Deathstroke’s final words echoed in her head over and over again as Wally sat silently seething.

Suddenly, her eyes widened.

“I know that voice.”

“What?” Wally asked, momentarily pulled out of his rage.

“I said, I know that voice,” she said softly.

_Of course, Princess._ It was her father’s voice. Taunting her.

“He’s not coming,” she said slowly as she realized.

“No, he just  _said_ he was coming.”

Teasing her. Toying with her. He never took her seriously because she wasn’t worth his time.

“He’s not coming… oh god.” Artemis’s heart stopped in her chest. “He was never coming.”

“What do you mean?”

“Wally, he was never coming. We’re nothing to him; he would never waste his time on us.  Wally… he’s going after _Robin_.”

Wally’s eyes widened in horror for a brief moment before he pulled out his own communicator for their team. 

“Robin! Robin if you can hear me, you have to get out of there! Deathstroke’s watching all of us. He has cameras, he’s watching and _he’s coming_.”

Oh god, Artemis thought as she felt her body tremble, and she had to lean against the wall as she felt her strength leave her.  Oh god, oh _somebody_ help them.


	20. Renegade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, an update! Apologies for the wait -- life and all -- but this chapter was such a thrill to write and hopefully you all will enjoy it; all it's 5,000+ word glory. 
> 
> As a side note, the next (and final!) chapter will probably be as long if not longer. I was originally planning as releasing it as one final update, but if you would prefer I release it in two parts as it gets finished (and have to deal with any cliffhangers) let me know, and I'll take it into consideration.

“I _said_ go home”

Dick couldn’t help but sigh as he remembered Bruce’s cold, demanding tone.  He had already stashed his Robin uniform and belt in the cave (“No _extracurricular_ activities in the manor, Master Richard,” he could almost hear Alfred chastise).  A frustrated sigh escaped his lips as he let his body fall limply onto the bed.

I should have had that mission…I should have been able to save them, Dick thought as he squeezed his eyes shut.  He should have been stronger. Why was he always so weak? To think that he had just shut down, especially when people needed him, was unbelievable.  He had been trained to be better than that. Robin was supposed to be someone to count on. 

But, Slade had ruined a part of Robin. That was the hardest part to admit to himself. That acceptance. Batman was supposed to have saved him from Slade. Robin was supposed to have won.  Dick Grayson was supposed to be the good guy.  He laced his hands behind his head as he let out another heavy breath. 

Somewhere inside himself, he knew he had seen too much to be the hero he had been before.  Slade had never taken him out of the base; he was always training to meet some threshold before Slade would allow him out in the field, a line he never wanted to cross.  Yet, _something_ had happened that changed something inside him he wasn’t able to name. Somewhere between the nights with his knees pressing into Slade’s mattress, his fists clutching the sheets ( _he never realized he was crying until he saw the droplets wet the silk. It hurt too bad to think clearly, but the tear stains looked like a smiling face if he twisted just so)_ and the day Slade had brought him to meet the Brain. 

Dick felt his brow furrow. He never had been able to figure out what The Brain had done that day.  All he remembered ( _he didn’t want to remember_ ) was being strapped down ( _and thinking he never ever wanted to be tied down again and what had he done to deserve it this time_ ) to a chair while Slade stood with his arms folded as the Brain approached ( _because maybe if he could figure out just what he had done, he could gauge how bad it would be this time_ ).  Maybe the fishbowl on wheels had said something, maybe he hadn’t.  Slade’s expression never changed – it was clear he expected his Apprentice to take whatever was coming stoically.  But, then he felt it ( _something was inside him and it was wrong_ ), a touch on the inside of his mind that pulled and set his nerves on fire ( _everything felt wrong wrong wrong_ ).  Dick was pretty sure he had screamed, his sore throat proved that much when he woke up in the white room later.  However, aside from the lingering sensation of the telepath’s touch and the sense that _something_ had changed, he didn’t notice anything different. 

Nothing about their routine changed after that. He woke, ate what was served, trained as Slade told him to, and was sent to the white room when it was over.  No, Dick remembered, it was after the Brain that he had gotten better at dissociating.  Often it was in Slade’s bed, but occasionally it would be while he was studying, or perhaps when Slade would call his name ( _or perhaps that awful pet name he had come up with after seeing his eyes the first time, taunting him with his newfound knowledge)_ and he felt his mind freeze up. Yet, when he came to he was in the same spot, and it could have only been for a minute or two ( _he was lucky Slade hadn’t beaten him for something so stupid_ ).

Groaning, Dick forced himself to sit up.  He couldn’t sit around feeling sorry for himself. That got nothing done, and he knew it.  A pile of books was sitting on his desk, and Dick forced himself not to groan again. He had almost forgotten that he had school tomorrow. He gave the books a hard glare, perhaps too hard as he thought he saw a flash in the corner of his eye.  One of these days he would catch up on sleep.

“Enog eb krowemoh,” he commanded, but nothing happened. It was worth a shot.

As he mentally tallied the work he still had left, a small voice reminded him that tomorrow would be his first time seeing Barbara since the party.  The thought almost made him collapse back into bed.

Hopefully she would understand, that she’d take his vague answer and accept it, accept _him_ still.  Bruce didn’t even accept his answers, the voice reminded him. Dick rubbed his face in his hands, a deep tired sinking into his mind.  If only Bruce could see how _hard_ he was trying; if only he could just stop being Batman for five minutes so Dick could have someone to talk to in the empty manor.  If only Bruce would just trust him…

Maybe _he_ would have to be the one to make the first move himself, Dick thought.  If it meant a chance to… not get the feelings off his chest… but to feel like he wasn’t so alone in this, he’d do about anything.  Besides, he owed Bruce an apology for his stupid mistake ( _that almost cost innocent people their lives_ ); that much was certain.  Yeah, it wouldn’t be fun, but it was worth the shot.  He wouldn’t let this drag him down. He had to keep fighting against Slade – that trait Slade had never been able to beat out of him.  Robin was strong enough to keep fighting, even when Dick Grayson was weak. 

Absently, Dick nodded his head. He would keep fighting as long as he had to.  Until then, however, he still had a history paper to write.  Or, at least that was his plan for the evening when he felt his communicator buzz from its hidden place in his pocket.  He hardly had a minute to register why anyone would be contacting him at this time of night when he heard Wally’s panic filled voice.

“Robin! Robin if you can hear me, you have to get out of there! Deathstroke’s watching all of us. He has cameras, he’s watching and he’s coming.”

Ice filled his veins as a sudden cold panic mixed with a burst of adrenaline. Slade had cameras? The fear forcing the insensible thought to take root in his mind. Slade had _cameras_ in his home. In _all_ their homes.

Suddenly, Dick jerked around, eyes scanning the room frantically. They had to be here. Of course there were here. Gah! How could he have been so stupid to think Slade would just let him be? To think that he had a place that was safe from Slade and let his guard down. 

His heart hammered wildly in his chest. Slade could be watching him right now. If he was really on his way, like Wally said he was, then he didn’t have a moment to lose.  Fumbling under his bed, he removed the fake floor board to reveal the spare utility belt he kept underneath it. He hastily clasped it around his waist, underneath his sweatshirt as he felt his mind numb with panic.

How long had the cameras been there? What did Slade know? How did Wally know he was coming? Was he ok?  What if Slade came for him and he wasn’t there? What if he took Alfred or one of his friends instead? What if Slade got to _him_? What if he was forced to go _back_?  

Dick forced the thoughts away. Slade would be after him and him alone. (He should have known, he should have been prepared. All that time _wasted_ feeling sorry for himself.) Staying at the manor only put Alfred as risk.  Bruce was still out as Batman – his best bet was to find him. 

His eyes darted around the room. If Slade was watching, he couldn’t risk contacting Bruce from anywhere near the manor. Hell, he couldn’t stand the thought of just being in the manor a moment longer knowing Slade had been having his own personal peepshow for who knows how long.  Dick shivered at the thought.  With a final glance to the door, he sent a silent hope that Alfred would be all right, that they all would be all right, and he would be coming home soon. 

Forcing his window open, Dick slipped outside.  “I won’t ever be your Apprentice. Not now, not ever,” he said into the empty room before shutting it behind him and darting off into the night, unsure if the message was to Slade or simply to himself.

 

A small chuckle escaped his lips as Slade heard Dick’s pathetic warning from the camera feed on his tablet.  As if he had a choice.

“You’re so cute, Richard.”

He had been waiting in another diner. Not as good as Ginger’s, but decent enough. No one knew his face here and that was all he cared about.  He flipped through his cameras one more time.  Bruce was still out of the manor, presumably as Batman.  The mountain’s feed, which was admittedly limited, showed no activity, suggesting the teens had actually gone to their own rooms. Slade smirked, of course the girl would have chosen to keep her secrets as close as possible. She really was her father’s daughter.  With a flick, he moved to the camera in Wallace West’s room.  In it, Artemis had crumpled to the floor and Wally was standing over her, grasping her shoulders and saying encouraging words.  They were going to stop Slade and save Robin and what not.

Heroes were so laughably predictable.  The two sorry excuses for heroes had no idea where he was, where Richard was, or how to begin finding them. It was so pathetic it was almost funny. 

He heard himself chuckle again. It was an odd sort of sound, like he was out of practice. But, Slade didn’t care.  He was about to get his Apprentice back, and that thrill sparked something in him. That feeling deep in his chest that only Richard seemed to be able to stir.  That hungry, burning feeling not unlike that of making a kill, that commanded him to hunt and devour his prey completely.  It all came down to control. Slade knew that’s what this was about.  Oh, and how he _ached_ to control that boy.  Slade wanted it so badly it hurt down to his very bones. Mind and body and soul – he had to have it.  Now, finally, he would get his boy back. _Forever_.

Checking the camera’s one more time, Slade used one set around the perimeter to follow the boy’s movement as he seemed to be headed towards East Gotham.  It was almost too easy.  A shiver of anticipation ran down his spine as the adrenaline began to pump through his veins. The end of this silly chase was coming. He felt it, and he couldn’t help but smile.  Even the thought of having Richard’s intoxicating presence in his arms once again sent his skin tingling.  Yes, he lived for this kind of thrill.

Standing up from the booth, the unfamiliar grin persisting, he hefted his bag over his shoulder and made his way towards the door when a younger man stopped him. He was young, late twenties, scraggly sort. This was probably his first job.

“Hey pal, you gotta pay first. That’s just how--”  In an instant, Slade’s arms wrapped themselves around the man’s neck and twisted in opposite directions, earning him that familiar _pop-crunch_ as his neck snapped.  Slade’s smile grew, feeding off his adrenaline high.  He didn’t hear screams; he didn’t care. None of them mattered. None of them would understand anyways.  People like Richard and himself were special.  It was going to be them against the world, utterly unstoppable, and that was such a _wonderful_ thing such stupid people would never understand.

Slade strolled out of the diner feeling better than he had in a long while.  He walked down the street to a run-down apartment block, choosing to go towards the side instead of the main entrance. Less cameras that way.  Hefting the bag to one shoulder, he slipped up the fire escape inside an apartment he was using as a temporary safe house. He unzipped the bag to reveal the familiar black and orange costume, which he made quick work of. With finality, he pressed the cold one-eyed mask to his face.  Let it begin.

Moving quickly to the roof, Slade flicked his ear communicator to pick up the GCPD frequency.

“Batman has just left the scene of the crime. Left two perps on the corner of Cobble and Reed, in front of the antique shop.” Slade nodded, East Gotham. Most likely, Richard would be seeking out his mentor for safety.  Mentally, he mapped out the pathway from the manor to Batman’s last known location.  The boy wasn’t in costume, likely he’d be sticking to the streets. Smart, Slade thought.  Richard Grayson was much harder to spot as just another street urchin than the famous Boy Wonder swooping over the rooftops.  But, not smart enough.  If the boy was under his tutelage, he would have told him to use the sewers instead. Faster, more cover, and plenty of opportunity for a sneak attack.  Perhaps he would lecture the boy on it later.

Using the rooftops, Slade began his hunt.  Richard may have the Bat’s training, but it was no match for military-grade expertise mixed with enhanced senses and a cold-blooded determination.  He followed his apprentice’s trail, occasionally stopping a few unsuspecting Gothamites to ask if they had seen a young black haired boy in a grey sweatshirt for directions.  One actually loosened their bowels on themselves.  In a matter of minutes, he earned his reward.  It was a signal that gave Richard away. 

The boy was crouched in the shadows of an alleyway and, after checking to be sure he was alone, lifted his sweatshirt and hit the button on the center of his utility belt.  One Slade’s wrist, his thin gauntlet computer, which was linked to his tablet, let off a soft vibration and flashed the co-ordinance of the boy just below him.

Slade had found the belt on his first sweep of Richard’s room. Well-hidden to the average criminal, but disappointingly obvious to someone like himself.  To reconfigure the belt to send a GPS signal to Slade’s computer instead of a distress call to the Bat had been child’s play.

“Come on, respond!” Richard whispered desperately to the belt.  Slade could hear the fear in his voice.  He would have to teach the boy to hide his emotions better.  But, teaching moments could wait.  History was in the process of repeating itself.

 

“Please, _please_ respond,” Dick whispered a second, softer time.  It didn’t make sense. Bruce _never_ ignored a distress call.  He refused to believe that it was because Slade had gotten to him first.  Maybe the signal was weak, and he just needed to get closer. That was the theory he had been working with at least… for the past ten blocks. 

It was possible Batman had changed directions, but he knew the patrol routine like the back of his hand. Batman should be close, and he _should_ be receiving his signal.  Bruce wouldn’t just ignore him. He _wouldn’t_ , Dick told himself sternly.

Pulling his hood up as the cold night air hit his back, he tried again, jamming the button.  “I know you can hear me, dammit,” he muttered.

“Loud and clear, Richard.”

Dick’s breath caught in his throat as the voice ( _that_ voice) assaulted his ears.  Slowly, fearfully, he looked up to see the one man he never wanted to see again. ( _No no nonono_ ) From the top of the building, Slade was in his full Deathstroke armor, swords glinting in the moonlight on his back. The man pushed himself off the roof and landed gracefully between Dick and the way out of the alley. ( _It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. He just needed more time to find Batman -- there was never enough time_ ) Slade walked steadily forward, a slight saunter in his step.  Dick knew he couldn’t out run him. He couldn’t fight him.  He couldn’t win.  Months of analyzing that cold blue eye immediately had him scanning it for Slade’s emotions out of habit.  It glittered, like a strange light was trapped inside.  Slade was _smiling_.

“Hello, Richard. Did you miss me?” 

He didn’t respond, shifting into a fighting stance instead. He couldn’t win – he knew that. But, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t fight. 

“Now, boy. That’s no way to greet your Master.”

“You are not my Master.”

“We both know that’s not true,” Slade purred taking another step closer.

“You’re delusional.” Dick’s fists tightened, preparing himself to fight with everything he had.

“I think we both know how much you loved being controlled by me.” Slade was within arm’s length now. A feral growl escaped his throat.  Dick clenched his fists tighter. He wouldn’t shake. Not in front of Slade. Not again.

“Are you really going to fight me?” He didn’t anything in response, but Slade could see his muscles tense. “You know what happens when you bite the hand that feeds you.” Slade paused, pretending to wait for a response.  “You _are_ going to accept that you belong to me, one way or another. If it takes a hundred more beatings to get that through your stubborn head… _so be it_.”

To Dick’s credit, he was ready for the first strike when Slade’s arm shot forward towards his gut.  Nimbly, he side stepped the oncoming limb and blocked it to his right, diverting the force of the blow, knowing full well even a perfectly-executed block against one of Slade’s hits could still be damaging. Slade knew his body, every nerve point, every trick up his sleeve, every weakness just as well as he did. If not better. 

Slade didn’t give him even a moment to put some space between them or gather his thoughts.  In an instant, he vaulted forward, fist pulled back, ready to deliver another barrage.  Dick knew he couldn’t match Slade’s top speed, and instead launched himself backwards in a handspring. His only thought was to _somehow_ get out of this. 

His hands darted into the utility belt, reaching to grab one of his birdarangs.  Slade wouldn’t use the swords on him, but, fortunately, he didn’t have those kinds of limitations.  His fingers pushed inside the pocket expecting to feel the cool steel, but instead finding only empty space. 

Dick didn’t have a chance to register _why_ his belt was empty, as Slade charged him again, his single eye glinting madly.  Slade’s leg shifted back to deliver a roundhouse kick to his head. Reading the movement, Dick automatically ducked. However, Slade predicted this and, as Dick moved to tuck his head down, Slade’s opposite hand struck his blind spot.  Dick’s collarbone cracked as it gave way.

Instinctively, Dick rolled backwards away from the painful hit– he just needed to _get away_ \-- but instead felt his back hit the cool brick of the end of the alley.  Slade approached with a slow coolness. His eye promised punishment.  Slade’s knee pulled up as he prepared to send his heel down on Dick. Years of training made Slade’s mistake apparent in an instant.  Tucking his arm in, he executed a tight roll underneath the raised leg and slipped between the man’s legs. Dick wasted no time and continued the roll into a full on sprint out of the alleyway. 

“Clever,” Slade bemused.

Dick _ran_ , forcing his feet to move as fast as they could.  He pushed past the few people milling about the street, weaving in and out and trying to stay underneath the streetlamps.  Every few steps, he was glancing over his shoulder. The orange and black mercenary wasn’t in sight, but that didn’t mean anything. He was right behind him, somewhere, and not being able to see his pursuer only worked against him. As much as he wanted to hide, the shadows were the worst place to be – he knew the kinds of things that waited for him there. 

A few people shouted at him, chastising him for being rude or perhaps mistaking him for another thief.  To them, he was just another orphan running the streets. They didn’t know he was their Boy Wonder.  But, that didn’t matter, as long as he could use them for cover he could buy more time. Maybe just enough.

He had gone two or three blocks when he turned to check for Slade behind him again and felt his chest crash into something, forcing him backwards and onto the ground.  That blue eye gazed tauntingly down at his sprawled form.  Dick wanted to puke.

He had been watching, his mind screamed behind the panic of his thundering heart.   Slade hadn’t been there a moment ago, Dick was _certain_ of that.  “H-how…?”

“Now, Richard, that was a nice trick back there. But, you know there’s no stopping me from getting what I want.”

Dick frantically looked around for something, anything to help him escape.  He was in the middle of the street, completely vulnerable.  Slade could crush him in an instant if he wanted.  Around the two, the few people who had been out seemed to be frozen.  As Gothamites, they had all seen more than their fair share of horrors, but the sight of a world-renown assassin looming over a scrawny little boy was new. 

“Do you think they’re going to help you?” Slade asked, following Dick’s gaze.  “Isn’t that cute. No, it doesn’t matter how many times you’ve staked your life for these people.” Slade bent slowly down and reached out a hand to gently caress his cheek.  The man leaned in, and Dick could _feel_ his breath all over him, reeking of blood, and sex, and death.  “It doesn’t matter one bit. Just like you, these people know that the only option in the face of true power is _absolute submission_.”

Slade’s fingers snapped up and roughly tangled themselves in his black hair, pulling Dick up as Slade stood.  He couldn’t suppress the small cry as the weight of his body pulled down on his burning scalp.

“Are _any_ of you going to stop me?” Slade challenged to the onlookers.

A woman let out a soft sob, as she hid her face.  The rest turned their gaze away. A few began to walk in the opposite direction. Not run. Walk. As if the man holding the boy by the hair was nothing more than a traffic inconvenience to be rerouted around.

“See? They won’t tell you. You aren’t worth the effort.”

“No.” Slade cocked his head at Dick’s unexpected response.

“No? Do you see them?” Still clutching Dick’s hair, Slade walked up to a young woman who had her back to them, frantically texting on her phone instead.  He pushed Dick next to her, and Dick could see her tense yet she refused to turn even as she trembled in fear.  “She won’t even _look_ at you.”

“There are… good people in Gotham,” Dick breathed painfully through gritted teeth, hands clawing uselessly at Slade’s grip.

Slade merely scoffed. “Perhaps.” He yanked Dick backwards, slamming his back forcefully against the pavement, forcing a cry from his lips.  “But, they’re not here are they?”  Slade’s fist blasted itself into Dick’s gut. 

The air rushed out of his lungs in an instant, leaving Dick gasping for air.  Slade stood back, letting him roll pathetically to his side to cough up a mouthful of blood. _How kind_ , came a sarcastic voice in the back of his head.

The break, however, was short lived as he felt a gloved grip the back of his neck. His eyes snapped open.  He _knew_ what that grip meant.  Vivid images of being tossed into the white room assaulted his mind.  That hand forcing him to kneel as the Slade’s other hand gripped the whip. That grip holding his head in place to the grind of a zipper being undone.  The effect flooded his system with adrenaline like fire. With an animalistic scream, he started to thrash for all he was worth.

It was a panic filled jerking motion, twisting in ways only an acrobat could -- anything _anything_ to get away.  He had to get away.  _HE HAD TO GET AWAY_.   There were no words, he only screamed a blind panic.  Unfortunately, Slade had plenty of experience dealing with Dick’s panic. 

Keeping one hand in a firm grip on the boy’s neck, he used his other hand to reach into his belt and withdraw a pair of handcuffs which he quickly snapped around the boy’s thin wrists, locking them behind his back.  Richard squirmed, flexing this way and that in an amusing attempt at freedom.  He really did need to learn more control.  Having an apprentice that could be set off so easily was a liability. Not to mention annoying. But, Slade thought as he gripped the boy’s fear-stricken form tighter, he finally had Richard back. Slade felt his smile widen. Finally, he could enjoy the spoils of an especially painstaking mission. 

Getting Richard back to his safe house was, admittedly, more difficult than he originally presumed. The child squirmed and fought the whole way there.  He probably would have kept hollering if Slade hadn’t found a spare roll of bandages and shoved it roughly in his mouth.  

“Don’t you think this is a bit immature, Richard?” He muttered to the child as he finally reach his safe house.  Richard only glared furiously in response.  Slade sighed as he hefted the boy through the window and tossed him onto the ground. “I was hoping our reunion would be more pleasant, but no matter.”

The minute Dick’s back hit the floor, he used the momentum to step though the cuffs to put them in front of him.  His mind began whirring, scanning the room for something to break the bounds when Slade grabbed the chain and yanked him forward until they were face to face.

Dick’s nose inches from the cold metal mask when Slade’s hand snaked up into his peripheral vision. He flinched automatically, preparing for the blow, but instead the hand continued to the mask and gently lifted it off Slade’s face.  That awful, familiar face regarded Dick, raking over his body, with a kind of softness that made his stomach turn.

He was too close; it was all happening too fast. Slade, his own personal nightmare, was right in front of him.  He was going to drag him back to the haunt. He was going to make him become his apprentice. He was going to make him his slave.  Dick was trapped with Slade, and the thought petrified him. 

Slade pushed his fingers inside Dick’s lips to remove the make-shift gag.  He didn’t realize he had been hyperventilating, choking around it until he felt Slade’s glove crack against his cheek.

“Try to keep it together, Richard. We have some things to attend to first.”

After a few heaving breaths, Dick was able to catch his breath and managed to force out, “What do you _want_? Why can’t you just leave me alone? I. Will. _Never_. Serve. You.”

“You’re so naïve. Of course you will. You already have, and you’ll do it again. For as long as I want you to – which is simply for the rest of your life.”

“No, I haven’t! I listened to you and trained to save my friends and family! I slept with you to escape. I have never obeyed your commands because you told me to!”

Slade regarded him thoughtfully, his expression not changing except for the slight upturn of his lip.  “So… you never realized what the Brain did?”  Dick felt his lips open to respond, but he shut them when he found he didn’t have a response.  “It would appear you forgot his exposition beforehand.  That would explain a lot… When you were last in my haunt there was no reason to tell you as you took my commands so beautifully, but not I suppose it makes no difference now.”

“W-what are you talking about?” He asked, jerking the cuffs fruitlessly in Slade’s grip.  At his words, Slade actually smiled, an awful expression full of teeth and malice.

“Kiss me, _Bluebird_.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Dick felt himself lean forward and close the short gap between him and Slade with his lips.  He held himself there as if savoring the taste of the man’s lips, the scratch of his mustache, and the smell of his armor.  Inside, his mind screamed.

He couldn’t move. Somewhere, the sane part of his mind shouted to pull away, but somewhere along the way it got muddled and didn’t quite make it to taking action.  Dick’s body stayed like that, his lips holding Slade’s like lovers, until Slade pulled away, releasing the handcuffs.   Dick flopped to the floor, wiping his lips furiously has his mind regained control.

“Usually I wiped the memory of your missions as Renegade afterwards,” Slade said casually.  “Since you were… emotionally compromised… but I see no reason to continue doing so.”

“N-no…” Dick’s eyes widened in horror. “W-what did you make me _do_?”

“Mostly petty thievery. A few recon missions. An assassination.”

“ _No_.”

“Yes. It went over quite well. Once your childish inhibitions were out of the way, you performed quite beautifully.  The woman's name was Ariana DeLauro. Do you remember her?”

Dick’s heart was in his throat. No, no it couldn’t be true. It _couldn’t_. He would _never_ break Batman’s one rule.  It couldn’t be true. “You’re lying!”

“I suppose not. I did clear the memory away, so I suppose that is to be expected.”  Slade knelt down until he was at eye level.  Frantically, Dick scurried backwards.

“Stay away from me.”

“No. You’re not going anywhere, Bluebird.” The word snapped through his mind like a spark; instantly, he stopped moving backwards. Instead, he trembled in his place on the ground. He couldn’t stop it now. He couldn’t stop any of it.

“You poor thing… Ah, but you look so beautiful like that.” Slade rubbed a thumb over his trembling lip before planting a soft kiss. “So beautiful…” He murmured, leaving one hand on Dick’s cheek as the other slipped down and expertly undid the useless utility belt.  From there, they traveled up his bare torso with a methodical slow, gentleness that felt like needles on his skin.

“Please, don’t do this. Just let me go.” He begged, but he knew it was in vain.  Checking Slade’s eyes, he could see that the man was too far gone. Slade didn’t acknowledge him, instead continuing to force the sweatshirt over his head before tossing it to the side. 

“Here is what is going to happen, my boy. You are going to write a note to the Bat, a final farewell if you will. You are going to help me make sure the Bat will never come to your rescue again. Then, you are going to take your place as my Apprentice, my Renegade.” 

Dick shivered as Slade absently touched his side, rubbing circled into the top of his hipbone with his gloved thumb.

“But, before that…”The man quickly tossed off the gloves.  His hands suddenly traveled up and wrapped him in an embrace. Slade breathed in deeply, tucking his head into Dick’s neck while the boy could do nothing more than tremble, before whispering, “I want you to _remember_.”

One of Slade’s hands traveled to his hair and began to stroke it softly, the other down his back, absently tracing the scars.  Dick shook so violently he thought it would dislodge the straying touch, but Slade was unphased.

“I could make your mind leave you…” Slade murmured into his ear, “But, I want you to be here for this.  I want you to know in every inch of that brilliant mind of yours that you simply can’t fight this.” In a sharp stab of pain, Dick yelped as Slade dug his fingernails into one of the raised scars.

“Scars seem to suit you, Richard.  You’ll be getting more of them when we get back for your insolent behavior – I promise it.”

“Y-you won’t win. You may be able to make me listen… but you _won’t_ win me. I will _always_ fight you.”

Slade’s fingers continue to trace the scar paths while Dick’s body made no movement to attest to the disgust he felt.

“That doesn’t matter to me, Richard,” he said kissing Dick’s cheek softly. “I have your mind. Your body. If you insist on keeping your bleeding heart, so be it.  That fighting spirit is what I love about you.  Besides… the red brings out your eyes.”

“I don’t want this…”

“Yes. You do. Because you are my loyal apprentice... Isn’t that right, Bluebird?”

“Y--” No.

“Y--” _NO._  

“Yes, Master.”


	21. Rise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thrilling conclusion! Enjoy!

Slade didn’t particularly care for Gotham City, but the night air had a certain bite to it that sent a shiver down his spine.  He was leaning out the window of his safe house, having only recently come back after a short trip to stately Wayne Manor to deliver Richard’s message.  Glancing backwards, he smirked to see that Richard hadn’t moved from his place in the corner, nude and lying on the worn mattress, where he had been commanded to stay.  The boy was curled tightly on himself while remaining carefully on his side, his bare back turned towards Slade, exposing new, raw lines where Slade had drug his nails.  Richard’s clothes had been thrown just out of arms distance and, since he had been commanded not to move from his spot, all Richard could do was look at them, longing for the extra layer of protection. 

Slade could admit that the boy looked awful, physically and mentally exhausted.  Perhaps he had been a bit rough – even without the command to stay, he suspected Richard wouldn’t have been able to move much after they were done – but he knew Richard could handle it. 

Pulling out his tablet, he only checked one camera, the one stationed in Richard’s old bedroom, where he himself had been not too long ago.  The room lay still for a few minutes and Slade was about the check later when the door opened.  Into the room walked Bruce Wayne, glancing worriedly around the room before spying the note left on Richard’s dresser. It was Richard’s own handwriting, in the code supposedly only the two of them knew.  One look in Wayne’s eyes, and Slade knew he had him hooked.

“If you’re done resting, we should get going,” Slade said, tucking away the tablet.

“We’re going to West and Second, aren’t we?” Richard said softly, “It’s a trap… isn’t it?”

“You’re a clever boy, you shouldn’t have to ask.”

“What are you doing to do to him? You have me… so _why_?” Fear for Batman’s safety seemed to have given him the strength to uncurl himself and face him.  Slade took a moment to relish the deep sadness in his bright blue eyes.  Richard seemed to have finally given up.

“Wayne will learn what you seemed to have only just figured out, apprentice. _This_ is permanent. He must be taught not to interfere.”

“You won’t convince him to stop. He never stops – that’s just how he is.”

“Au contraire, Richard. You thought you would never kill either, and yet here we are.”

“A-are you talking about Psimon?” Richard’s eyes widened, clearly remembering his last session with the telepath.  “What… what are you going to do to him?”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, apprentice.”  Slade crouched in front of the boy, smoothing his tangled hair. “I don’t intend to hurt him or stop his silly hobby.  All I’m going to do is remove you from the picture. One clean cut and then it’ll all be over.”

“It’ll never be over,” Richard said carefully, locking eyes with Slade.

“Not for you, anyways,” he said with a smirk as he stood. Richard broke his gaze, choosing to glare at the floor instead.  “Get dressed, Bluebird. We have an appointment to keep.”

He wasted no time quickly tugging on his pants, although not without a pained wince as he accidently moved his worn body the wrong way.

“Drop the shirt, bluebird,” Slade heard himself say as Richard moved to grab his sweatshirt. Immediately, it fell to the ground.  He shot Slade a tired, sullen look that asked _why_. 

“I like looking at you.” Internally, Slade complimented himself for being so generous as to supply him with an answer when Richard knew better than to question an order.

That being said, it had been a long night for him.  Slade turned sharply on his heel, the command to follow was implied. Although the trigger-word hadn’t been used, Slade was pleased to hear the soft sound of the boy falling into step.   As they leapt from the safe-house and took to the Gotham skyline, Slade felt the bite of the air sharpening his senses.  Beside him, Richard shivered.  Eyeing the way the moonlight glistened off the marred and tangled skin, he wondered how much of it was due to the cold. 

Richard’s expression, locked straight ahead, seemed almost detached from the loss he knew the boy must be feeling, like he was already finding a way to process everything that was happening.  The gears were clearly turning in his little head as he worked to figure out how to survive in this new and hostile environment.  Already, amazingly, his blank look attested to his ability to push aside the trauma of the night and keep moving.

The two traveled quickly across the rooftops to an abandoned building on the corner of West and Second, the one he had told Richard to write about in his letter to Wayne.  It had been in the middle of construction when the project had been scrapped, some policy infraction forcing them to stop construction, leaving only a barren concrete monolith – one of many in the skyline. Eventually, it would be torn down and another built in its place. Until that one served its purpose, and it too was torn down and on and on.  Gotham was a concrete city -- Slade knew this – it never truly changed.

Slade led this apprentice to one of the upper floors, weaving through debris and abandoned building materials, to come to a fairly cleared room.  It was wide and open, like a concrete arena, with three of the four walls completely open to the city.  Supposedly, it was to be a well-lit conference room for business meetings, which Slade found ironically appropriate.  

From the back of the room came the whirr of gears as the metal contraption that was the Brain rolled forward, a large gorilla with a red barrette following silently behind.  “You are very fortunate, Slade, zat I had Mallah to help me up here or else I would not have come.”

Richard shuddered by his side, and took a half step backwards.

“Don’t show such weaknesses, Bluebird,” he snapped.  The boy’s spine straightened instantly.

“I see ze work I have done with your apprentice is still adequate?”

“I am very pleased, Brain.” Slade said with a slight dip of his head in respect.  “And, I expect your help tonight with the Bat will be just as impressive.”

“As long as ze compensation you promised is provided, Mallah and I will assist you.”

“I can assure you, I will provide.”

“I have complete confidence in you.  Ze Bat will be a difficult adversary, but he is no match for my cerebral prowess.”

“You’re wrong!” Richard suddenly blurted. “You won’t be able to touch him. He’s defeated people with far more brains and brawn as the two of you combined.” Slade’s eyes widened at the outburst. Perhaps Richard wasn’t as placated as first assumed.

Before Slade could reprimand him, it was Brain who spoke first. “Boy, you have yet to learn manners! You will kneel before your betters.” With a small cry, Richard’s knees seemed to buckle, and they hit the concrete mercilessly.  His face contorted as he tried to push out the Brain’s mental presence.

“S-s-sorry.” Richard forced out, his fists curled tightly against his thighs.

“Zat is better,” Brain complimented.  Slade merely raised an eyebrow, wondering what exactly the Brain had done. The Brain was an impressive ally indeed.

“Send Mallah to keep watch.  The Bat will be here soon,” Slade said calmly, placing a hand on top of the boy’s head, a silent command to stay down.  “He will come, he will go, and he will _never_ come back. Your friends have given up on you, Richard.  All that is left is me.  You will accept it in time.” 

Richard shuddered beneath him but made no other move.  A long night indeed, Slade thought to himself. And it was still very far from over.

 

 

Batman didn’t think he had ever traveled so fast as he shot through his city with a frantic desperation.  In his mind, he was singly focused on getting to the meeting place Dick had described in the message. He had to get there first.  Slade was on the prowl, and he couldn’t fail Dick again. He _wouldn’t_.

All his mistakes, as a hero, as a father bore into the front of his mind. There were so many. Too many to count. The times when he had turned his back on Dick, the times he had left him alone, every time he had chastised the boy for things beyond his control – he regretted all of it.  More than that, he was _mad_ , furious even at himself for being so blind. Some hero. Some father.  His own father would be so disappointed.

He would make it right. Dick deserved that much.  Bruce owed him that and so much more.

Bruce’s thoughts were so overwhelming it took him two rings before he realized his communicator was going off.

“ _What_ ,” he growled, tempted to hang up right then and there – he was _wasting time_.

He immediately recognized Kid Flash on the other end of the line. “Slade’s going after Robin, we…we don’t know where but--”

“I know. I have Robin’s location and I’m en route now.”

As if sensing his finger on the off switch, Wally cried, “Wait!”

  
“You’re wasting my time!”

“Wait, where is he? I have the whole team here, we can help.”

“No. I will handle this.”

“No.” Batman blinked at Wally’s uncharacteristically harsh response.  “No,” Wally continued, gaining confidence. “That’s what started this whole mess. Everyone keeping things to yourselves, trying to do it on your own. Well, you _can’t_.  Deathstroke’s been playing all of us for fools. We need to work together.”

Another voice came over the comm link, “Wally’s right,” Artemis said. “Deathstroke knows what he’s doing. Even if Robin has a hiding place, it won’t be long until he finds it.  Robin needs all the help he can get. Don’t… don’t let him pay the price trying to play hero.  Everyone gets hurt in the end, I know. I know how this plays out, I know what Deathstroke can do, and I won’t let him pay the price for my arrogance again. Batman, don’t do this to him.”

Taking a shuddering breath, Artemis continued, “I get it now. I doubted him, but he was right all along.  Robin always has faith in others. So…so have some faith in us too.”

At that, Batman actually did stop. Only for a moment, he skidded to a halt on the rooftop he landed on and looked at the Young Justice communicator in his hand. This team, Robin’s team, the one he agreed to put together when he saw the look on his ward’s face. The one that said “we can do this – trust me.” 

Somehow, Robin was able to help make this team of misfits actually work.  Total strangers and they became friends, and Robin put his whole hearted faith in them.  Something he himself had never been able to do with anyone. Not even Robin… not in the way he should have. 

“Fine,” Wally sighed over the link. “If you won’t tell us we’ll search Gotham ourselves.”

“West and Second.”

“What?” the Speedster gasped.

“West and Second. Come camouflaged in the bioship and wait for my command.”

“Y-You got it. We’ll go tell the others.”

With a nod, Batman pushed off the building and resumed his chase at full speed. The half—constructed building was already in sight.  He was close.

“We won’t let you down, Batman. We’ll get him back,” Artemis said over the link.

“Let me be clear,” Batman breathed, danger putting a low growl in his words, “failure is _not_ an option.”

“Understood. Young Justice out.”

 

 

Batman landed on a building adjacent to the one Dick had specified in the message.

“Young Justice come in,” he radioed. “Are you in position?”

“Affirmative, Batman.  We are in the vicinity,” Aqualad responded.

“I want Kid Flash and Artemis on the ground watching the perimeter. Let me know if you see anything even remotely suspicious. For the rest of you, do not engage until I say so.  I’m going in.”

“Yes sir. I am sending them out now.”

From his vantage point, Batman saw the red and green clad heroes slip out of seemingly thin air.  Artemis took to the rooftops and started to move counterclockwise around the buildings while Wally kept to the shadows on the ground and went the other direction.

He himself would start from the top down. With his grappling hook and formidable experience with the cityscape, he was able to make quick work of the top few floors.  His trained eyes searching for any sign of Dick, all the while doing his best to remain silent. 

It wasn’t until he got to his fourth floor that he found anything.  The floor was dominated by a single room open to the Gotham night air, allowing it to flow freely and wildly through the building, and rustle the hair of a small figure kneeing in the center of the room.

“Robin!”  He didn’t bother to stop himself from shouting, tossing aside his caution and breaking into a full sprint towards his son. He wasn’t too late, Dick was _safe_ , and he was…. shirtless?

It took him a moment to take it in -- his detective eyes instantly scanned the boy’s bare back and immediately noted the fresh red lines on top of the gnarled scars -- the whole time Dick remained silent and motionless. “Dick? What happened?”

He crouched down to look the boy in the face.  A tear slipped down Dick’s face as he seemed to be pulled out of a daze, eyes suddenly snapping to meet the whites of Batman’s cowl.

“Batman. You have to--” But, Dick didn’t finish the sentence, the words seemingly stuck in his throat.  Desperately, his blue eyes seemed to be trying to say something.

“It’s alright, I’m here. I’m going to take you home, alright?” 

“No, no! Batman… _please_ ,” Dick grabbed at his shoulders, thin arms trembling and his hoarse voice begged.

“I-I don’t know what you want. But, I’m going to fix this. Deathstroke is never going to hurt you again, I swear. I’m going to get you home.”

Dick only shook his head, another tear slipping down his cheek. “No…” he moaned.  Suddenly, the boy’s hand’s let go of him and, instead of reaching out for comfort, pushed weakly on his chest. “You have t-to… It’s a… i-it….” Dick’s tongue seemed to be acting on its own accord, with only small choking sounds coming from his throat as his voice rose in frustration.

From behind them, the click of metal on concrete made Dick go rigid. Batman’s hand flew to his belt, closing tightly around a batarang.

In the moment of silence, the last second before the storm, the partners locked eyes.

“I won’t let him take you,” Bruce heard himself whisper.

“Jal avree,” Dick whispered back, eyes desperate for him to understand.   He blinked, caught off guard by Dick’s native Romani. It took him a moment to roughly translate: _go away._

“So, you came for your ward after all. How predictable.”

“What have you done to him?” Batman yelled, his voice a murderous roar in his fury.

“Nothing he didn’t already owe me. I’m afraid he’s not your sidekick any longer.”

“He will never join you. You’re insane, Wilson.”

It was near impossible to tell with the mask, but Dick saw Slade’s anger at the insult in the squint of his eye. With one desperate, last ditch attempt, Dick tugged at his mentor’s cape

“Nash,” he whispered, begging for the man to listen just this once. _Run._

“I’m not leaving you. Not again.” Bruce’s hand moved to gently squeeze his in reassurance. 

No! Dick gasped as the words cluttered in his throat.  Everything in him ached to warn Batman to _get away from here_ , but the command to not tell kept them from escaping.

“That’s endearing, really Wayne. Unfortunately, once again, you are going to lose to me.”  Deathstroke took another slow step forward. “Bluebird, come to my side.”

Dick felt his body jerk to obey, even as his mind raged in protest. Yet, the voice that screamed to disobey was muted, as if lost in a fog, getting harder to hear with each step closer to Slade.

“What are you doing?” Batman asked incredulously. “Don’t go to him – you don’t have to listen to him anymore!”

“Sorry, Wayne. But, he’s not yours anymore. Bluebird is loyal to me, now. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, master.” The words rolled unbidden off his tongue.

“What are you doing? I’m here. Dick, I’m _here_ now.”

Slade chuckled as he placed a possessive hand on Dick’s bare shoulder.  “He’s just dropping the act, Wayne.”  Slade’s words slipped in his ear. They weren’t true, he knew that. But, through the fog, he wondered if Slade could fool him into someday believing it.  Silently, he prayed Slade would at least let him keep his sanity when this was all over.

Suddenly, an accented voice from the back spoke up. “Mallah has spotted two other heroes. It seems ze Bat has brought help,” spoke the Brain as he made his presence known

“Keep them occupied.  We don’t want them interfering with Wayne’s last goodbye.”

“I am going to take him back,” Batman growled. Dick’s eyes flicked immediately to the shift in his stance, one he had seen hundreds of times over in practice and in combat.

“Bluebird, you know you are loyal to me now. Prove it.”

Of course he was loyal.  Dick felt the thought snap through his mind like a live wire. It was as obvious as the color of the sky. 

_It’s not true, I’m still me. I’m still Robin_ , the small voice argued back. But, it was so hard to hear, and it didn’t quite make sense when he _knew_ he was loyal to his Master.

“Do you understand me?” Slade subtly warned.

  “Yes, Master.” It wasn’t his place to have such thoughts; it was better to not think about it. If his master wanted him to prove his loyalty that was simply all there was to it.

“No,” Batman breathed. Dick saw the man’s stance shift in his surprise.  The opening was obvious and, in the fraction of an instant, Dick shot forward, leaping into the air, and landing a solid roundhouse kick across the cowl.

Batman’s head snapped to the side from the force of the blow as Dick landed in front of him, taking up a fighting stance. He hadn’t blocked it, like Dick had been expecting him to he just… took it.  He had never seen Batman do that before.

As Batman seemed to come to his senses, instead of raising his fists as he should have, he let his hands fall to his side.  The eyes of the cowl rose to meet Dick’s, and he saw something he had never seen before in the Dark Knight.

“I’m sorry, Dick.” It wasn’t Batman’s voice that spoke but Bruce Wayne’s voice filled with a pain he had never seen the man show before. This was the man who stood beside him the night his parents fell. The man who took him into his home. The man who showed him the light and gave him a _reason_ to fight.

“Bruce,” the name slipped from his lips. This was his _family_.

“Apprentice, what are you doing? I _said_ attack him.”

His body jerked forward. But, rather than leaping forward like part of himself wanted to, his legs froze up and he tripped, falling to his knees instead.

His Master gave him an _order_! He had to move! No! No, he couldn’t attack his family. He couldn’t lose his family again.  Images of his mother’s smile, his father’s touch, followed by Alfred’s soothing voice flashed through his mind. Bruce’s smile from behind the Batman’s cowl, laughing at one of his jokes, saying he was proud of him.

“Dick, I’m so sorry.  I should have done more. I should have been so much better. You deserve so much better.”

Licking his dry lips, “Bruce…” he managed to whimper -- the only outward sign he was holding his own as his mind tore itself in half. 

Cautiously at first, then, giving in, Bruce stepped forward and dropped to the ground beside his son. His arms wrapped around the cold, trembling boy and held him to his chest as tightly as he dared.  “I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you…From that very first night, I wasn’t there in time. I could never save you… I love you, Dick. I love you so much.”

“How interesting,” came Slade’s voice as he watched from a few feet away. “I suppose your control wasn’t absolute after all, Brain.”  Batman growled as he pulled Dick behind him, the boy an absolute shaking mess by now.

“On ze contrary. You simply did not give ze correct command. He is loyal to you, but he still retains his loyalties to ze Bat. To remove a bond such as zat will be a much more… in depth procedure.”

Slade hummed in response.  “I suppose that can wait for another day. Let us finish this foolishness, shall we?”

In one graceful motion, Batman unpinned his cape, letting it fall over Dick’s shoulders, and drew himself up. Standing at his full height, Batman bared his teeth and felt his eye burn with a rage from the very fires of hell. 

“You _will_ pay for this, Wilson.”

Rocketing forward like a bull let loose, Batman charged at Deathstroke. Two batarangs cut through the air and would have hit Slade’s head if he didn’t dart to the side.  Turning on his heel, Batman roared and sent a punch to where he had been only a split second before, the hit splintering the concrete with the impact.

“Too slow, old man,” Slade taunted as he seemed to reappear directly behind him.  Before he could even turn around, Slade planted one solid kick in the center of his back, forcing him to stumble forwards towards where the Brain sat watching the brawl in silence.  

“Finish this, Brain!” Slade’s commanding tone rang out. Batman whipped around, another batarang in hand, ready to face another challenger.

“With pleasure,” Brain intoned.  Batman’s growl of pain echoed through the concrete room, the metal bat clattering to the ground as he moved to clutch his head.

“Get…out…of…my head!” He forced out, refusing to fall as the telepath tore viciously at the walls surrounding his mind.

“He iz well trained. Zis may take some time.”  A sound between a yell and a groan escaped Batman’s throat as he forced his eyes open, locking with Slade in his infamous Bat-glare.  Stumbling forward, he raised his fists.

“I… _will_ … make you pay.”

Slade laughed, mimicking Wayne’s stance.  “If you insist, Wayne.  You can’t keep this up.”

The man didn’t respond except to launch himself forward to aim a heavy fist at Slade’s face.   Slade blocked it easily and responded with an elbow to Wayne’s gut that forced the air out of lungs in a whoosh.   It was a hit Wayne usually would have had no problem avoiding – Brain must really be doing a number on his mind for such a loss of focus.

Smirking, Slade made the decision to push him over the edge.  “Do you really think you’re doing right by him?” He taunted as he sent a powerful kick that Bruce only narrowly dodged.

“You don’t know anything about Dick.”

“On the contrary. I know _everything_ about him.”  Batman threw a wild punch that Slade lazily avoided, his own fist rocketing forward and cracking against Wayne’s cheek in response.  Slade continued, “Do you really think you were protecting him by throwing him to the wolves of Gotham every night?”

“He’s strong,” Batman muttered, his feet wobbling as he struggled to maintain control over his own body.  Within his mind, a war was being waged on his mental defenses. Every angle was under siege with a mental force he had never felt before, pulling his mind in every direction, and Bruce felt his walls beginning to give.  “Dick has fought for people no one else ever gave a second thought. That boy… is a hero!”

“No,” Slade countered with a harsh kick to the man’s side that he didn’t even seem to see coming. With a heavy thud, it brought the dark hero to the ground.  “You took a traumatized child and threw him into your stupid war! It was your obsession that ruined him – his fears, his pain, his misconceptions, down to every single one of his scars.  It is all _your fault_.” He accented each word with another kick, leaving the man gasping for air.

“Yes, zat is it!” Brain called in triumph. “I am in, ze Bat has fallen. Vat is it you want me to do with him?”

A mad grin broke behind Slade’s mask as he stood over the Batman, watching as the piercing eyes seemed to go dull.

“Make it so he will never so much as think to come back for his ward. Make him regret having anything to do with Richard in the first place. Make him give up on Richard completely, absolutely.”

“With pleasure.”


	22. And Rise Again

Artemis did her best to keep her breath steady, her head level, trying not to think about how the kid she thought of as a little brother was somewhere in this building, and she was on freaking _perimeter check_.  At least Batman had agreed to let them come at all; although, no one was sure what exactly changed his mind. 

She was in the middle of mentally searching their last conversation for any clue to the Bat’s thinking when a noise from above made her look up.  Her gaze rose just in time to see a dark mass jump from one of the top floors and use the building to roughly grapple down before landing in front of her.

On reflex, she leapt back, knocking an arrow, already scanning for a vantage point. It took her a split second to realize that the black shadow _wasn’t_ Deathstroke but rather a gigantic gorilla with a tiny red hat.

“Wally, I need some back up on the East end, like _now_.”

A low rumble emitted from the gorilla’s throat. He didn’t waste time with exposition, baring his fangs and charging forward at her at an alarming speed.

She fired two arrows in quick succession at his face, which he only batted away with this huge, hairy arm. The momentary distraction, however, was just enough for her to find her grappling hook and zip up to one of the exposed beams of the building.  While she was confident in her archery skills, at the end of the day, you just couldn’t bring a bow to a fist fight. Especially not one against a mutated ape.

Wasting no time, she shot three more arrows, two of them finding their target and embedding themselves into the gorilla’s back.  He growled in response, but aside from that seemed unphased.  His beady eyes glared at Artemis on her perch, narrowing as he tried to think of a way to pull her down.

“I am not going to waste my time fighting a stupid ape!” She yelled, firing another barrage.

This time, the gorilla jumped to the side avoiding them and then propelled himself forward onto the wall, his gigantic hands finding a crack in the wall as he started to pull himself up and closer to her.

Frantically, Artemis scanned the landscape for another vantage point because there was no way she would be able to hold her own if it came to blows.  Suddenly, the gorilla let out a yell as a yellow blur crashed into his side, knocking him back to the ground.

Instinct reacted before she could even register what had happened, her hands finding two sharp tipped arrows and sending them sailing down to pierce the gorilla’s feet where he landed, stunned. 

Wally took advantage of the gorilla’s surprise and sent a flurry of fists at warp speed to his face.  “Got yourself in a _hairy_ situation, Art?” He quipped.

Artemis bit back a groan, finding her heavy tipped arrows and shooting them at the back of the ape’s head.  As Wally zipped backwards to assess the damage, the gorilla let out a moan as it wobbled, trying to stand. 

“No, you’re going to stay down!” She cried and she leaped from the perch, rotating in a tight spin, and bringing her heel down onto the top of the still-dazed gorilla’s head.  The combined force of the rotation and gravity made the kick crack audibly against his skull.

With a final roar of pain and surprise, the gorilla fell face first into the pavement.  Wally dashed forward, hands on his hips as he checked to be sure it was out cold. He gave a low whistle.

“Nice one,” he complimented.

“Is this normal for you?”

“Pretty much.”

She shook her head. Hero work made no damn sense.  “I saw him come from the top floors, that’ll be our best bet. If this hired muscle is here, then Deathstroke won’t be far behind.” Then, through the mental link to the rest of the team, “M’gann, take the ship to one of the top floors, that’s where Robin is.  Keep in camouflage mode, we don’t know what we’re up against yet.”

“Got it!” M’gann said immediately, the determination taking the cheery tone from her voice and leaving only the drive to save her teammate.

“We’ll meet you up there,” Artemis said, reaching for her grappling hook.

“Don’t bother,” Wally said, “I’m faster.”  Ordinarily she would have protested at being carried by the speedster, but there was no time to waste now. She nodded the got onto his back. In a whoosh of air and a blur of colors she had never seen before, she was suddenly taken to one of the exposed floors near the top of the building, a forest of support beams and dust.

“Where do you think--” Wally started to say but a shout from the floor above them made him stop.

“Yes, zat is it!”

“Upstairs!” Artemis cried, “Let’s go!” She sprinted to the staircase to the right; Wally just a blur as he sped past her. 

Wally reached the top first, the door opening with a bang as it was slammed open. The speedster skidded to a stop as Artemis was given a chance to catch up to him.  She gasped as she saw what had made him stop.

In the middle of the bare concrete room, Batman was on the ground with Deathstroke and the metal contraption of the Brain looming over him. It took Artemis a moment to realize that this wasn’t some advance bat-move. _The_ Batman was on the ground in front of his enemy – he was _losing_.

To the side of the room, a small figure sat huddled beneath Batman’s black cape.  It…it couldn’t be Robin… could it?

“Artemis!” Broke M’gann’s voice over the mental link.  “We’re just outside. We have visual. I…I’m detecting a strong mental presence. I can sense Robin’s mind but… it’s all confused, and I can’t make sense of it.  I think the Brain is doing something to Batman.”

“Can you stop it?” Artemis snapped back, “We’re going to need Batman and all the help we can get against Deathstroke.” _And then some_ , she added silently.

It was Aqualad who spoke up next, “Connor and I will fight, M’gann do you think you can handle the Brain?”

“I… Yes!”

“Good. Move out, team!”

Deathstroke’s stance shifted slightly as he slowly turned his gaze from the fallen Bat to the two young heroes standing in the doorway.  “Hello, _heroes_ ,” he sneered.  “I’m afraid you’re too late.”

With a furious cry, Kid Flash shot forward. Artemis quickly followed suit, predatory eyes narrowing as she drew her bow.  From the side of the room, Aqualad slipped through the hull of the bioship, his water bearers crackling with energy. Superboy was right behind him, eyes wide with a maddening rage.

“Attack!”  Someone shouted.

And all hell broke loose.

 

Megan slipped from the bioship, hovering over the battlefield in her camouflaged form as her comrades charged towards the black and orange assassin.  As much as she wanted to help, she knew she had her own battle to fight.  Summoning all the mental strength she could, she turned towards the Brain and unleashed it all.

“Auugggh!” The Brain cried out as the blast hit him unexpectedly.  Then, she felt his mental energy turn towards her.  “So, you are ze telepath zey speak of. You wish to challenge ze Brain? So be it.”

“You will not hurt my friends!” She cried over their mental link as she forced herself into the Brain’s mental landscape.

While in the real world, M’gann’s body simply hovered in the air and the Brain remained frozen in place, in her mind she saw a vast arena of swirling colors unfold before her.  In the sky rose a gigantic-sized brain.  When it spoke, his voice boomed through the empty space. 

“Witness my power, girl!”

A white hot blast erupted from the Brain and shot forward.  With a cry, she let forth a blast of her own. The two beams met violently, and M’gann could feel the burning hot power behind the blast.  It was raw and strong, terrifyingly strong.

“Give up, girl!” The Brain goaded. “It is over! The Bat has fallen. If even ze Bat is no match for Deathstroke what makes you think your team of mere children has any chance at all?”

“Do not underestimate us! We are far stronger than you will ever know!”  In her mind, she thought of her friends.  Aqualad’s cool deposition, Wally’s quick and valiant nature. Connor with his heart of gold, Artemis with her undaunted courage. Then Robin, their youngest but perhaps the most fearless one of them all.  He was so young, yet he fought beside his super powered friends without hesitation.

And right now he needed her help! She couldn’t back down now – she had to win! As her determination grew, she felt her mental power grow with it. She let out another battle cry and, as she did, she felt her beam grow stronger.  Where it met the Brain’s blast, it began to push back harder.

“W-what is this?” The Brain cried.

Everyone was counting on her.  Everyone was counting on her! It repeated over in her head like a mantra.  As it did, her light beam grew until it overwhelmed the Brain, exploding in a brilliant light.

Then, suddenly the vast landscape shattered and M’gann suddenly became aware of herself floating in the concrete room once again.  Below her the Brain groaned.

“You…You’re power…I did not think a child could possess such strength.  Very well, girl. You may have zis victory. My job is complete. We will let Slade fight his own battles.”  With that, he slipped back towards the shadows. 

Another day she would have gone after him, but there were more pressing matters at hand. Turning instead to the battle below her, she looked just in time to see Deathstroke land a heavy blow to Artemis’ torso, sending her flying across the room.  She would have crashed against the wall if M’gann didn’t reach out and catch her with her telepathy.

“Did you win?” Artemis asked as she was set down.

“Yes, I can help fight Deathstroke!”  M’gann said, lowering to the ground and becoming visible once more.   In the center of the room, she saw her team fighting furiously against the one man who was, incredible, holding his own.  As Conner charged for a head on assault, the assassin twisted in just the right way that Aqualad’s water bearers narrowly avoided hitting the super boy.

“No! Whatever the Brain did to Batman you need to fix it. We need him to win this!”  Artemis called as she knocked two more arrows, suppressing a wince as she moved.  “You have to hurry, M’gann.  I… don’t know how long we can keep this up.”

Without another word, Artemis fired and leapt back into the heat of the fight. Turning, M’gann’s eyes rested on Batman who only seemed to just be coming out of a daze.

“Where am I?” The man muttered, rubbing his head.

“Batman? Batman, we need you. Deathstroke is there, he’s going to take Robin. We need you to help fight him.”

Batman’s expression changed to one of confusion, “Why would you fight Deathstroke? Robin is Renegade. He’s Deathstroke’s apprentice now.”

“How can you say that?” M’gann cried. “He’s your partner! He’s our teammate!”

Batman shook his head, “No, I remember now.  He never belonged with me. He was always meant to go with Deathstroke. Fighting will only get your team hurt. Tell them to fall back.”

“No! We’re fighting to bring Robin home! Deathstroke is going to hurt him, we have to save him.”

“I said it’s _useless_ ,” Batman growled, “If you won’t tell them to fall back, _I_ will.”

“The Brain did something to you…You don’t know what you’re saying.” Batman only glared at her, pushing himself up.  With a swallow, she knew what she had to do.  “I’m sorry about this Batman… But, Robin needs you!”  In a single mental heave, she pushed herself into Batman’s mind.

 

 

Instantly, she was transported to a grey, empty wasteland of a ruins.  In the middle of it was Bruce Wayne, the man she had seen so many times on TV.  All around she could feel where the Brain had broken down his mental barriers, leaving a shattered mess.

“Bruce Wayne?” She tested softly.  He turned at the sound of her voice, blue eyes filled with sadness.

“It’s all my fault, you know.” His voice sounded old, weighed down by years of trials.

“What do you mean?” The man only nodded at a rock on the ground. After a second glance, she realized it wasn’t a rock but a tombstone engraved: Richard Grayson.  “I-is that…?”

“My partner,” he finished. “I ruined him. Showed him things no child should ever have to see. I took in a traumatized boy and enlisted him in a _war_. That’s… what kind of monster does that?”  The man’s haunted eyes stared at the room, his head shaking numbly.

“It’s no wonder Deathstroke convinced him to join his side.  I ruined him… I _ruined_ him…” 

“But, that’s not true!  He doesn’t want to join Deathstroke, I know it! I can feel it! All you have to do is _help_ us.”

Bruce shook his head again, “No, no he’ll never come back. Not after everything I’ve done. I’ve done so much to turn him away. He’ll never come back.  At least…at least with Deathstroke he’ll be safe. Deathstroke won’t let anything happen to his apprentice.  That’s more than I could ever promise him.”

“You’re wrong!” she cried. “The Brain lied to you! Please, Batman, you have to snap out of this.”

“He didn’t lie to me; he showed me the _truth_!”

“But, I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it. Look,” she implored. Waving her hand, she projected an image of Robin into the air above them. It was the last time the whole team was together, Robin smiling brightly.

“Dick…” Bruce breathed. 

“He loves this life; I know he does.  But, more than that, he looks up to you!” Reaching further into her memories of Robin, she brought forth a briefing after a particularly difficult mission.  Robin was standing in front of the team, speaking proudly because he knew he had done well.  The Batman in the memory nodded in approval and Robin grinned, his face seeming to light up.  M’gann remembered the pride he had felt, and she did her best to project that onto Bruce.

“He…he’s a hero.  Dick’s a natural at it…” Bruce said softly. 

“Yes! And right now you need to be there for him! He’s always counted on you, trusted and put his faith in you.” M’gann pulled forth another memory, this time when a mission had to be cut short after Robin was injured, a nasty stab wound on his side. 

Connor had carried the boy into the mountain and M’gann remembered there was so much blood coming out of his tiny body, and Robin’s mind was filled with pain and fear.  He kept asking for Batman and, when the man finally rushed into the med bay, sweeping the others aside to clutch Robin’s hand that she felt it. It was like Robin’s mind let out a sigh of relief, and she remembered him thinking one word – _father_.

“Is…Is that true?” Bruce asked, eyes fixed on the memory of Robin holding onto his hand for dear life.  “I didn’t know… I mean, I wasn’t sure he would ever… think of me like, like _that_.”

“He does. I know he does.”

Suddenly, it was like a light was flicked on. “My son.” Bruce’s eyes snapped open in clarity.  “He’s my _son_. I…I was going to tell him I was sorry. I was going to _show_ him.  I – where is he?” Bruce suddenly turned on M’gann. “Where is my son?”

“Deathstroke, h-he’s fighting us. He’s trying to take Robin.”

The change was instant. The man’s brow lowered in determination, his teeth grit together in a snarl. “Get us out of here, now.”

She nodded.  Once the fog was lifted and he was willing, pulling them both out of his mind was instant. In a moment, they were both back in the abandoned building. 

In the middle of the room, an intense battle was taking place.  Kid Flash was passed out and Connor was on the ground, clutching his arm and eyeing a green stripe of color that flashed from Deathstroke’s belt as the man expertly flowed around Artemis’s arrows.  The archer was breathing heavy, her quiver dangerously low on arrows, but the look in her eyes was enough to shoot daggers.  Deathstroke didn’t seem tired, but he seemed to be favoring one leg as he and Aqualad danced.  Each one of the assassin’s movements was perfect as the dodged the water bearers and started to advance on the Atlantian, forcing him closer and closer to the edge. 

“Deathstroke!” Batman roared as he charged.

The assassin’s head snapped around. “What?” He said in surprise.  The moment of hesitation just enough for Aqualad to wrap a stream of water around his ankle and send forth a powerful jolt of electricity, causing the man to cry out.

Batman wasted no time, leaping onto the other man to deliver a ferocious blow to the mask, the bang echoing throughout the room.  He didn’t stop, delivering blow after blow.

“Batman, stop – you’ll kill him!” M’gann heard herself cry.  That made him pause, and in that second Deathstroke twisted out of his grasp.

“I don’t know how you managed to break the Brain’s hold, but you’re not going to win this one, Wayne!”

The dark knight didn’t bother to respond, the piercing glare spoke volumes, promising justice and pain.  With two batarangs in hand, he bolted forward, sending one flying to eachside as he charged down the middle.  Deathstroke’s single cold eye narrowed as he set his stance.

The two collided, and the flurry of punches and kicks that followed was almost too fast too follow.  First, Deathstroke seemed to be overpowering him as Batman took a blow to the head then another to the gut. But, then the Bat twisted and his armor-clad leg landed a mighty kick that shot Deathstroke backwards until he was only a few feet from the ledge.  Batman didn’t let up, coming forward to meet him until they were nose and nose, Batman’s hands wrapped around the assassin’s throat.

“Well… are you going to do it?” Deathstroke choked out.

“I’ve read you’re file,” Batman growled. “You’ll survive the fall, but you won’t walk away.  It’s _over_. You lose.”

There was a flash of light in Deathstroke’s eye as he seemed to realize, for the first time, that Batman was right. He couldn’t win this fight.  Then, the eye narrowed.

“You’re right. I will survive…”  The eye darted around the room, to something behind Batman.  

“But _he_ won’t.”

 

With that, Deathstroke pushed himself _backwards_ and off the ledge.  “Bluebird, to me!” He shouted as he began to fall.

The words didn’t make sense to Batman as he watched the assassin’s body drop. That is, until he heard the soft patter of feet and saw the blur of his ward streak past him and throw himself off the ledge. 

“Robin, _NO_!”

Without hesitation, Batman pushed himself off the building after the boy.  His only thought was that he had to get there first, he had to _save him at least once_.  Torpedoing his body, Batman’s arm reached out to grab the falling boy’s thin arm and pull him into a roll. Maybe there was a chance he could soften the blow with a roll, but Batman knew he had thrown his life away for his son the moment he jumped. As he tucked the boy his chest, the sickening sound of Deathstroke hitting the pavement rang out. 

“I love you. I love you. I love you,” He whispered over and over into the boy’s ear, unsure if he could even hear him as the two fell.

Then, suddenly Batman felt his body jerk to a stop.  For a moment he thought he had hit the pavement, but, as he slowly dared to open his eyes, he realized he was hovering only a few feet off the ground.  Slade’s body lay twisted at a sickening angle just out of arm’s reach.  In his arms, Dick trembled and struggled.  He was still trying to get to Deathstroke’s side.

Slowly, M’gann’s telepathic powers pulled them back up to the floor where the team was waiting anxiously. 

“Robin…?” Artemis whispered.

Batman ignored her, turning to M’gann instead.  “Make it stop. Do whatever you need to break Deathstroke’s hold over him,” he pleaded.

“O-ok,” she said kneeling in front of her youngest teammate as Batman held him tightly as he struggled.  Robin’s blue eyes were wide in a hazy desperation.  As Artemis watched from behind, she realized it really was Dick Grayson behind the mask, and a feeling too personal, too close to name hit her as she watched M’gann reach forward to touch the boy’s temples.

Instantly, he cried out in pain, his struggling tripling in effort. M’gann winced, and then relaxed as Robin’s body went limp.

“Dick?” Batman whispered.  Then, to M’gann, “Did you do it? Is he…?”

She nodded, “I-I think so.”

“Dick, c’mon chum. Wake up.” Jostling the small boy lightly, the boy twitched then let out a gasp as his bright blue eyes fluttered open.  “Dick? Can you hear me?”

“Bruce?” The tears started to well up in his eyes, his hand clutching Batman’s tightly.  “Is…is it over?”

A noise halfway between a laugh and a sob escaped Batman’s throat as he pulled Dick into a tight hug. “Yes. Yes, it’s over.  I have you now. I’m here. I’m here now.”  Bruce buried his face in Dick’s dark tangle of hair. “I’m so so sorry, Dick.”

The boy didn’t respond for a moment. He couldn’t say it was ok because it wasn’t. It hurt too much for it to be ok. His body felt sore, broken, and used; he could feel a dark cloudy mass lying in wait at the back of his mind, threatening to break him down if he dared to face it.  No, it wasn’t ok. But, as he felt Batman’s arms tighten around, he knew he was, _finally_ , safe. 

“I forgive you,” Dick whispered. Then, softer, “I love you, dad.”

“I love you too, son.”

The two held each other for a long moment. Both knew it couldn’t last. In the East, the sun was rising and casting a warm glow over the grey room, warming the worn heroes.  Young Justice, however, said nothing to break the embrace. Each one doing their best to gather their own wits together and prepare for the journey home, readying to start the long procedure of debriefing and patching each other up.  Yet, that was a job for later.  For now, they were content to savor the moment, knowing that they finally had won their teammate and brother back. 

The sun was rising, and a new day was beginning.  They weren’t home yet, but they were together, and that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End.
> 
> I want to thank everyone for reading my very first fic. It's been awesome, and I hope you all enjoyed it. I apologize if I didn't respond to your comment directly, but I've read and am grateful for every one, and they never fail to brighten my day. 
> 
> In other notes, there is certainly room for a sequel. I know there were a few subplots that had to be put on hiatus which I felt were detracting from the main story which could be expanded upon in another fic (ie Barbara, Westley, not to mention the aftermath of all this). In addition, I know there are quite a few typos and errors in this fic which I apologize for in my haste to post chapters; I do plan on correcting those eventually.
> 
> It's been great and, if not in a sequel to this fic, I have plenty more ideas in store that'll see publication. In short, thank you again for reading!
> 
> Until next time,  
> Harper


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